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buckysmith · 1 year

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MW2 characters reacting to you being hold hostage + how it happened

Includes: Ghost, König, Soap, Price, Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy, Gromsko, Laswell, Valeria and Graves

It was kinda hard to write the exact same topic for 11 people without repeating the same story and in the end I fucked it up but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways cause I wrote that shit for 7h+

I just hope it doesn’t flop again .-.

Word count around 10000.

Warning: hostage, mentions of dead, mentions of abuse (not heavily detailed but still a trigger)

Tell me if I have to add warnings

Ghost:

- He is an extremely cautious man, making sure no one knows where he lives to protect you.

- the only living people who know where he and you live are Price and Soap, since he knows they won't say anything even if they are being tortured

- Even your family doesn't know where you live, or rather they think they do, but they don't because the address is fake.

- but a small mistake can lead to a big problem, which in your case it did.

- Simon and you were walking together in the streets of London, but he could feel that something was off

- he didn't really want to go to London, but on your anniversary he wanted to do you a favor and go on a date like any other normal couple, spoiling you with things you like

- so you were on your way back to your car and like London is, it was crowded with a lot of people

- you could feel Simon getting more and more nervous because he sensed something was going to happen and then just a few feet away from you a car exploded causing the crowd you were in to panic

- Simon instinctively grabbed you and ran with you to your car, pushing the people running towards you away to make his way through the crowd

- but just before you could reach your car, he saw what was going on, that he was the target of the attack, because you were running straight ahead in a group of masked men.

- Simon who of course didn't have many weapons on him, only a Glock and a few knives knew that it looked bad for you to fight against heavily armed men

- he knew if he fought you would both die, so he didn't hesitate long and ran back into the crowd knowing there you would be at least a bit safer

- he pulled you by your wrist through the crowd, pushing the people who got in his way away to make room for you

- but after the masked men fired shots, the crowd just panicked even more

- he held your hand as tightly as he could, trying his best not to let go as the crowd tore you further and further apart

- the last thing he could see and hear of you before you were lost in the crowd were your frightened eyes and your voice calling out to him

- not even a second passed and he alerted Price who informed the team and laswell as well as the police and special forces in the area

- he immediately started looking for you, calling out you, trying to locate your cell phone, calling you, but you didn't answer

- all while forcing his way through the crowd in the direction he had lost you

- he tracked your cell phone signal, but only found your cell phone lying on the ground, smashed but still working

- he knew he couldn't panic now, but his blood was freezing, his heart started to stop in its rhythm

- he knew he could track you in another way, he had given you a necklace with a tracking device that even you didn't know about

- he followed the signal, running like a madman through the streets of London only to end up in an empty alley.

- the moment he picked up your necklace from the ground, saw the crimson liquid on it, was the moment his heart stopped

- it was the moment he realized that the target was not him, but you

- he stared at his necklace, time seemed to stop for him before he stood up and left the alley to make a single phone call

- days passed with no sign of you, Laswell and many other agents and elite soldiers in his debt searched for you

- he did not take any solid food during that time, he refused to eat and he drank almost nothing

- but his body did not weaken, only his spirit became more dangerous

- he blamed himself for your abduction, he cursed himself so much that he went with you to London

- days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, no sign of life from you made him slowly lose his will to live, his body became weaker and he destroyed himself more and more every day

- Soap and Price watched as their friend slowly fell apart, as he slowly became truly a ghost.

- at one point he was too weak to stand on his feet, but he resisted when anyone tried to help him

- be it to feed him or to help him to walk

- the moment he got a sign of life from you, or rather from the men who kidnapped you, Simon changed again

- the man who moments before had been too weak to keep himself on his feet became a more dangerous killing machine than he had ever been before

- whoever they were, they were about to pay a price

- and he wouldn't grant them the mercy of a fast death, he knew what he would do to them, the moment you're in his arms again.

- they would live for months, not that you could call that living, but well, they were still able to breath and feel everything. That's all I'll say about it.

Soap:

- Soap came back from his service a few days earlier than planned, so now you had a problem

- you were at a friend's in London, you were supposed to come back home two days later to pick him up

- but Soap assured you that it was no problem to spend the two days with your best friend, because you both saw each other quite rarely due to the distance or rather her and your job

- on the last day you both wanted to go shopping, some nice things to wear and maybe some other things you liked

- you then called soap, actually just to ask him if you should bring him this new video game he was talking about all the time

- but your conversation was quickly interrupted by two men with bomb vests and another man with assault rifles

- so the last shopping day turned into a hostage situation and you and your best friend were sitting together with many others in the middle of the building and in the middle was one of the assassins with the bomb

- it was just too stupid for the assassins that they didn't know who was among their hostages

- It didn't take Soap long to get from your home to London, not with his contacts.

- he also contacted his friends and teammates, Ghost, Price and gaz were also quickly in London.

- He had given you another cell phone in case of emergency, one which was not flashy but in such emergencies life saving

- but he didn't expect you to call him, and you more or less didn't really call him either

- he was the only number stored, so you just had to press a button dial his number.

- Soap didn't hesitate long and took his cell phone to the lead officer, because they had a view inside through the thermal imaging cameras, but no voice transmission and now they had thanks to you

- Soap knew how risky it was that you had called, but you had now helped the forces, especially with the identification that one of the bomb carriers was among the hostages.

- Soap could hear you and your girlfriend being yelled at, because you were whispering to your girlfriend beforehand so that the he and the other who were there to rescue you all knew where the other bomber was sitting.

- So while Soap was incredibly proud of your courage on the one hand, he was equally afraid for your life on the other

- he had been on so many missions like this, so many missions where he could have died, but none of them had ever made him feel this scared.

- it was only hours that you were trapped, but with every second That passed he knew that if something went wrong, he would lose you, killed him.

- the moment they stormed the building he had only one thought, he had to find you and get you safe and sound.

- it was only seconds in which he searched for you in the crowd, but for him those seconds felt like hours.

- For him, they were moments of uncertainty, because although they were sure that they could eliminate all the assassins with little trouble, they did not know if there were still hidden assassins among the hostages.

- The storming of the building was quick and the targets were also quickly taken out, but to soap's great fear, among the hostages there was actually someone with a bomb vest who remained unidentified, who blew himself up after his comrades were killed.

- the whole building shook, glass from windows and doors shot through the air like bullets that caused him to seek shelter for a few moments, in the seconds after that he disobeyed every order, he didn't care what would happen to his reputation or his job in the moments after the detonation

- it was all about you

- he called your name in panic, ran to the people killed by the explosion, or rather what was left of them.

- he knew where you and your best friend had been sitting

- and that's where the bomber had exploded.

- in the first few seconds there was nothing in his head, he heard nothing, he smelled nothing, he felt nothing.

- there was just nothing

- he held his breath without realizing it, fell to his knees as his body collapsed as if it had been turned off.

- the moment he heard your voice, the moment he could sense quick footsteps and a movement, he directed his gaze in that direction

- the moment you wrapped your arms around his neck, threw yourself into his arms and kissed him. It was the moment when he understood that he was not dreaming, you were alive, you were in his arms

- it was only seconds when he thought you had died, but those seconds left deep scars in his soul.

- the day you almost died left for you only a scar on your cheek, but for him it left an order, a mission which he would not stop carrying out even after his death.

- he made sure that this would never happen again, that you were safe for the rest of your life.

- that was an oath he never broke.

Alejandro

- being in a relationship with Alejandro had its pitfalls

- but most of all it had many downsides

- he was rarely home, most of the time your relationship consisted of talking to each other on the phone over secure lines

- it wasn't like it was something new, because before you had a long distance relationship, but with your move to las Almas you thought you could see him more often since you were only a few miles apart now

- but no, he was too afraid to accidentally give away your location and put you in danger.

- his enemies were the cartel, the soldiers operating outside his unit and even his own people he didn't trust

- the only ones who knew of your location were Alejandro and Rudy.

- but seeing your husband in person only a few times a month, and then only for a few hours, caused strife between the two of you.

- you were as good as isolated from the whole outside world

- you had little contact with your family/friends

- Alejandro had moved the rest of his family elsewhere, but you didn't know where they lived and they didn't know where you lived.

- everything was a security measure, but after two years of almost complete isolation in a foreign country, you and Alejandro were always having fierce arguments

- most of the time it was over FaceTime, because as I said he didn't want anyone to know where you lived

- the phone call ended with you hanging up after he told you for the millionth time that he was doing it for your safety

- you knew that, you knew he was just worried but you were alone, you needed him with you!

- he usually didn't even stay over and slowly but surely you felt more like a prisoner than in a relationship

- you were homesick, you wanted to be with your family/friends and the comfort they gave you

- the feeling of security he couldn't give you anymore for a long time

- you loved him, but you couldn't go on like this and he couldn't give up the life he was leading

- it didn't take long for you to pack a suitcase to fly home to your parents/friends, you knew you were welcome at any time

- but on the way to the airport you came into a military checkpoint

- but it was not a normal check in which the military took unnecessary money out of your pocket for any violations, no, they were looking for you

- they had got the order from the las Almas cartel, which you did not know of course

- because your last conversation was intercepted, they were able to find out your name from your voice and therefore knew who you were and above all they knew where you were.

- Alejandro found out only a few hours later, he had called you again and again, but since you had left your cell phone at home, he had no reason to worry.

- he thought that you were just mad and that you were going to give him the silent treatment, something you had never done before, but he had been in many relationships before where his partner reacted like that after a fight.

- however he wanted to discuss the problem in person, he knew you were hurt and he wanted to make it up to you somehow

- but when he got home there was no trace of you, your cell phone was there, but your car and suitcase were missing along with about four thousand dollars you had put aside in case of emergency

- he immediately informed Rudy and gave him your license plate number so that they could trace your location

- but there weren't exactly a lot of surveillance cameras in las Almas.

- but your license plate was caught by one of them and you seemed to be on your way to the airport, so he went on his way as well

- but your car suddenly disappeared and didn't show up again on the next camera like it had should

- he found your car but without you

- your car was in a ditch and it looked like you were deliberately pushed off the road

- he knew the moment he saw your car that you had fallen victim to the cartel

- the first few minutes after he found your car he called Rudy who called the rest of his team

- He knew he had to find you quickly

- He tried to contain his fear, but it didn't work.

- On the way back to the base his hands were shaking so badly that he could barely control his vehicle.

- he could feel his heart beating in his chest and hear the blood rushing in his ears

- when he arrived at the base all color was gone from his face

- he was so incredibly afraid for you, so much so that he had to throw up again and again

- while his body was rebelling against him, his emotions were boiling up, he was aggressive and tearful at the same time

- he tried everything to find out where you were

- after hours of searching, your captors came forward to present their trophy, you, to him.

- They knew how to use leverage to get what they wanted.

- but Alejandro still had a favor left with Laswell, so it didn't take long to get you to safety.

- but in the hours when your fate was uncertain, in the hours when he didn't know if he would ever see you alive again, a small part of him died

- he regretted every second of arguing with you, but not visiting often enough, because in the end it had caused to happen what he had tried to protect you from

- he was the reason for your abduction, for every hair that was cut in those hours

- he and his men stormed the building where you were being held and the moment he could wrap his arms around you, smell your scent and feel the warmth of your body was the moment he realized that moving away from you to protect you was not protecting you but separating you from each other

- that he was the reason

- from that day on, there was not another day that you could not see him

- he was always with you and from that moment on you were the safest you have ever been

- as safe as you have never been before

- the kidnapping was the best thing that could have happened to you and him

Rudy:

(Short info, I know the backstory would have fit well to Alejandro, but Rudy was the one who wasn't captured by Graves and his men and so I thought this could fit well to Rudy)

- you had heard that your husband was now working with people from the U.S. and the U.K. to fight the cartel and locate some missiles

- you knew that this information was actually top secret and you weren't supposed to know anything about it, but your husband told you everything and you preferred him to talk about it than to keep it inside and it being a burden to him

- you knew that the boys were coming back in the evening and it was important to you that they had enough to eat, of course you couldn't cook for over a hundred men by yourself but together with the help of Alejandro's partner, Rudy's mother and some other women and men you could cook enough food to feed them all

- so after you loaded all the food into the pickup you drove to the base

- What you didn't know was that the base had been taken over by the American, who imprisoned los vaqueros and plunged Las Almas into a bloodbath.

- Rudy had called so many times but the line was dead which you didn't notice because you only used your cell phone to listen to music and this was possible without line.

- since you all came outside of las Almas, you didn't notice anything until you were stopped with the car at the entrance of the base, while your identity was checked by an American and after that you were not nicely brought to Graves

- Graves of course immediately recognized the value you had as a hostage, after all he had the leader of the vaqueros and the partner of the second leader.

- He knew that if the worst came to the worst, you would be his life insurance.

- Rudy, meanwhile, was getting more and more panicky by the second, and instead of going straight to the safehouse, he drove to your house.

- he knew that if you were not at home, you had probably gone to the base

- he was not panic, no you could not describe his feelings like that

- he was incredibly calm on the way to the safehouse, he didn't know if Ghost and Soap were alive, he knew you were probably in Graves' captivity and he didn't know if Alejandro was alive.

- Every person he trusted was either gone or in captivity and he had to keep a clear head right now.

- but it just didn't work, he couldn't cry and he didn't shake either.

- he was paralyzed and his head worked like in energy saving mode

- until the moment when Alejandro was with him again.

- that was the moment when he broke down, sobbed, poured out his heart to Alejandro and let him know how unbelievably scared he was for you

- that he would never forgive himself if something happened to you, that it was all his fault, and much more.

- from that point on he couldn't stop shaking, sobbing and hyperventilating

- he knew Graves would use you as leverage if a situation arose where he was in danger of losing his life, which only worried Rudy more

- He knew he would lay down his life for you if it came to that.

- yet when Graves tried to escape with you, you managed to get away from him and escape while the Ghost Team stormed the base

- you broke your arm and sustained wounds that would later become scars

- every single scar from that day reminds Rudy that he failed as your husband

- but it was the only time in your life with him that you were in danger, because after that he made sure that it would never happen again and you were safe

- he never forgot the feelings he had while you were in danger and that's why he taught you all kinds of defenses and how to handle a gun

Price :

- in a job like your husband's, there were unplanned incidents more often than you would have liked

- sometimes he didn't come home for months, sometimes he was only home for a few days before he was needed somewhere in the world so the world wouldn't end

- it was hard for your relationship and it ruined all plans for vacations or just to be together every time again and again

- and it was one of those days again, he had just come home from a mission, hadn't even had the chance to unpack his stuff and was needed again immediately

- it was useless to ask him to stay with you, so you let him go again after you had said your goodbyes

- he had promised you to take vacation, that this time nothing would come between your trip, the trip you had planned and looked forward to for so long

- this trip was supposed to replace your honeymoon because you couldn't take it after your wedding because of his job

- but the trip was booked, all paid for and you had taken the time off

- you had done your research and could only move the trip somewhere else and not cancel it without losing all your money or reschedule the time for the trip

- you knew he would not be back in time, so you told your best friend to pack her bags so that the two of you could go on vacation instead of you and Price

- together with your best friend you decided to change your trip to another country, both of you going to Cairo Egypt

- your best friend always had something to do with pyramids and the ancient egyptians and you also found them quite interesting

- but you were more interested in today's culture

- of course you told your husband beforehand to ask him for permission

- he agreed that you should go with your girlfriend, but he was worried about the choice of country you had made

- but you told him that Egypt is a relatively safe country and nothing would happen to you

- he had a bad feeling though and asked you to move the trip somewhere else, which you refused to do

- your best friend knew the country, culture and language better than anyone, you knew you were safe with her and that he was overreacting.

- however, this led to an argument, he insisted that you move the trip elsewhere and you vehemently refused

- he wanted to continue arguing with you but your argument was interrupted by Soap who told Price there was an emergency

- you could hear him sending Soap away again and this time telling you rather rudely not to make the trip

- that was the last thing you heard before the connection was lost and you were sure he had hung up on you

- you didn't know that the connection was lost do to the emergency which was an attack

- during the argument you thought about giving in, trusting his feeling but after he yelled at you you didn't want to give in out of pure pettiness and went on the trip with your best friend

- the first days were wonderful, the hotel you lived in was fortunately well air conditioned as you could hardly stand the stinging heat, the people were nice and the food was delicious

- Price didn't contact you during the days and while part of you was worried about your husband, you knew that if you didn't hear from Laswell he was in good health and just wouldn't talk to you, and you, definitely wouldn't give in and talk first!

- he knew you were fine, at least you thought he did, since you were in constant contact with Laswell and her wife.

- they were as much a part of Price and his family as you, Soap, Ghost, gaz and his pets. It was an all or nothing deal

- with Laswell's wife you were also in contact every day, sending her pictures from your vacation, what you were doing and the great food.

- but all good things come to an end, in your case it was "wrong time, wrong place".

- your best friend and you got lost

- How did you know? There were no other tourists around, not a single one.

- you knew instinctively that you had to find a way back very quickly, but it was already too late and you ran into a group of criminals

- you recognized the mark they wore on their bodies, t your husband had told you about the group but they were supposed to be in Russia, not here!

- he had already dealt with the people several times, each time it ended in a bloodbath on both sides

- so you grabbed your best friend by the arm, dragged her through the winding streets while dialing Price's number, which only went to voicemail, you called Laswell, but she didn't answer her cell phone either, so the last thing you wanted to do was call Laswell's wife, but it was too late and you were trapped

- the last thing you felt was a strong hit on your head before everything went black

- It was Laswell's wife who noticed your absence.

- You hadn't sent her any pictures or texts for four days, which was unusual for you.

- she asked Laswell if she knew anything about you, to which she only responded that you had called her four days ago but had not contacted her again

- Laswell didn't think anything of it, she thought that you had probably called her unintentionally, but with the information that you hadn't given any sign of life for four days was something that worried her.

- even more when Price also contacted her saying that he couldn't reach you in days after you called him.

- she tried to track your cell phone, but it was either off or the battery was dead

- the last trace showed that you hadn't moved from one spot in two days before your phone died

- she knew something was wrong, so she immediately alerted Price while sending one of her men stationed in Cairo to your last location

- When Price learned that you had not ignored him but had disappeared, he panicked.

- he knew the mission he was on was important and that his presence probably made the difference between defeat and victory, yet you were gone, in a foreign country after he asked you to go there

- he let another captain replace him, he knew his boys together with him would accomplish the mission and immediately set off to Cairo

- but he knew that he was not allowed to be there officially, so he entered as a normal human being

- he looked calm to everyone else, but if you were there you would immediately see how incredibly upset he was

- you were the only person who could see behind his facade

- he was unbelievably afraid for you, he couldn't drink, nor eat, everything he tried to get into him came up again faster than he had forced it down his throat

- he couldn't even enjoy his beloved cigars anymore, just the thought of smoking one made him throw up

- days went by, days he didn't sleep, days he didn't eat, days he drank almost nothing but scotch

- deep circles had formed under his eyes and the worry about you made him very angry

- after almost a week Ghost, Gaz and Soap also came to Cairo to support their captain who was more a ghost of his former self

- it took another two days but then they found you, it had been a total of two weeks since your abduction and you were starting to give up

- they didn't do anything to you after they found out who you were

- one of the men had recognized Price's face on your background and from there on it was easy for them

- they were also recently in contact with Price, negotiating the price for you and your best friend, but you didn't know that

- threatened to do something to you that would only make Price angrier.

- but Laswell was able to use it to get a location on you.

- it was a night in fog action in which they asked Price not to participate because those 10 days of living on nothing but alcohol and pure caffeine had weakened him considerably

- but he insisted.

- he had never been so nervous on a mission as he was on this one, he could hear his heart beating in his chest while his blood was literally boiling

- he didn't know if you were still alive, he didn't know what they had done to you, he knew nothing and couldn't control the situation, he couldn't prepare himself for what he might see.

- the operation was quick, the kidnappers didn't expect to be found out.

- 141 and several other soldiers searched the house and when Price found a locked door, after having shot a man with a gun only a few feet away, he opened it and through the sparse light recognized a person lying on the floor only a few feet away from him, he could also see that there was a pool of blood around them.

- his heart stopped at that moment, he didn't want to get closer to see who this person was, he didn't want to know if it was you... it just couldn't be you!

- he stepped like in slow motion towards the person lying on the floor, his whole body was shaking and he could feel the feeling of throwing up

- at the moment when he knelt down to turn the person and to catch a look into their face, he received an extremely strong hit on the head which made him see black for a fraction of a moment

- but his body reacted out of reflex, he turned and skillfully pressed the person who had attacked him to the ground and squeezed their throat.

- when he regained his sight he realized who he was choking and also the person who had attacked him realized who he was

- his eyes filled with tears while he let go of you and kissed you

-despite the sparse light he could see that you had been beaten, that you were hurt but you were alive

- a wave of relief came over him and you as you both began to sob

- he was relieved that you were alive and you were relieved to see him, that he had come and that this hell had now ended

- you were too weak to walk on your own when the relief came over your body, two weeks without food and only little water in an extreme heat had left its mark, not to mention the psychological stress and the wound on your shoulder

- your best friend had not survived, you both had been shot at, but only she had been killed while you were only wounded

- you pretended to be dead as well, and because of the panic they had, they didn't realize that you were still alive.

- you didn't know if the men would come back, but you knew you had to escape at the next opportunity

- not a day went by from then on that you didn't listen to him and for him not a day went by that he didn't regret yelling at you

- he thought he was to blame, while you also thought you were to blame for everything

- but basically it was just "in the wrong place, at the wrong time..."

Gaz:

(Im going to take gaz first appearance in MW2019 as my "guide")

-you and your boyfriend gaz live just outside London, you had moved in with him and left your old life behind you

- you had met Gaz by chance, or rather it was an accident

- you accidentally drove into his car when you were on vacation in London, you were wearing the worst outfit you could imagine and he, well he looked great.

- you were extremely uncomfortable and to this day he made a bit of fun of it, even though he was to blame for the accident

- you two got on well from day one though and friendship turned into love and now you were here in London

- gaz had been tense for a long time, but he was not allowed to tell you what was going on

- but you could imagine what it was and of course you tried to give your boyfriend some kind of comfort

- it was your day off, which calmed gaz down because he knew you wouldn't be near where his assignment was

- he couldn't tell you about it, so he kept quiet about it.

- but shortly after he left for work you got a call from your boss, she told you that one of your colleagues had dropped out and they needed you

- since you got along very well with your boss and the store became like a second family you of course agreed and left immediately

- you knew you would be there just before the shift started and since the shift would start at six pm anyway you thought you would write to your boyfriend just before you got there

- so you texted him at 5:50 pm (1750military time) that you would be home around 10 pm because you had to work spontaneously and would bring take away from your favorite restaurant

- gaz got the message while he was sitting in the car, he knew he wasn't supposed to look but usually you only wrote when something was going on or you wanted to know something

- when he read the message that you were at work, in the area where he now had a job, he completely freaked out, called you but you had your cell phone on silent and since the store was so busy you didn't even notice he was calling

- after that everything went wrong, there was so much shooting, people blew themselves up and so many injured and dead within a few minutes

- and this bloodbath led to the very store where you work.

- the feeling of throwing up was getting stronger by every minute and he started shaking without wanting to, he didn't know how you were and if you could get out in time

- when a man named Captain Price appeared, he followed him while he tried to calm down

- there were many people tied up between a man with a bomb vest which exploded only a few seconds after he and captain price arrived

- as gaz helped Price free the people he recognized one of your colleagues, he immediately asked her where you were, if you had escaped, but she tearfully told him that they had taken you.

- That was the moment when his heart stopped.

- you had been captured...

- at the moment when price and he and the hostages left the building, a live broadcast of the assassins was shown on the big advertising boards

- with you in their midst, wearing a bomb vest, at an unknown location.

- He immediately told Price that you were his partner, that he would do anything to free you and so much more.

- he could barely think straight, his heart ached while his stomach churned and he felt dizzy.

- it took them an hour to get your location

- an hour in which he threw up countless times and still tried to be strong for you

- he stormed the building with Price and his own team, killing anyone who got in his way while calling your name before finally finding you

- but the countdown ticked on and on

- when gaz finally got to you he tried to be as strong as he could but it tore his heart out to see your eyes filled with tears

- he knew how scared you were

- There were only a few minutes left before the vest would explode and Price told him to go, the experts said there was no chance and that the vest was too complicated to disarm in time.

- Price knew from the little time he knew gaz now that he would not leave you alone, wished him good luck and they both left the area as quickly as they could while

- it was only a minute before the vest would explode.

- he cursed himself for not being there while you tried to calm him down

- A second before the vest exploded, he grabbed all the wires in sight while pressing his lips onto yours, only to rip off all the wires in one go.

- and instead of you exploding nothing happened

- gaz had somehow managed to disarm the vest

- it was the moment when he started crying with relief, just like you did

- from that day on he made sure nothing like that would ever happen to you again

- he made enough after he joined 141 for you to stay home.

- but he supported you when you started an online business so he didn't have to be the bread winner

- but now you were safe, safe from all evil, safe from enemies, safe from anything that would harm you

Graves

- being in a relationship with graves was not always easy

- you two could not see each other often and for a long time, something that was difficult for both of you

- phillip, who was so much more gentle and loving in private than he was on the job, was incredibly homesick and lovesick for you

- it was just hard for him to be away from you for a long time, so he tried his best to somehow bridge the distances between you without putting you in danger

- he talked to you on the phone as often as he could, always had a picture of you with him in which your face was hidden but which he would often look at when he missed you too much

- it was a picture of the two of you lying in a hospital bed, your face buried against his neck while he had an arm around your torso

- his mother had taken the picture when she visited her son in the hospital after he was badly injured in battle

- during the weeks he was in the hospital you lived there as well and when he was finally able to go home you took care of him even though he assured you he was fine

- the picture showed him so much, it showed him that he had someone worth fighting for, worth coming home for, worth living for.

- he knew that with you he had found the partner for life and you both would go through thick and thin until the end

- the two of you were enjoying a bath together when the call from Shepard came forcing him to leave immediately

- your heart ached as your husband had just come home and already he had to leave again

- he didn't want to go either, but he knew he couldn't refuse an assignment and left after you said your goodbyes

- only a few days after your husband left you got a call from your best friend who lived in las Almas and was very pregnant

- since you had promised to be with her when she had her baby, you quickly packed the things that seemed important to you, the copy of the picture that Phillip was carrying with him

- las Almas was only a few hours away from the farm where you lived with Graves and more or less his family

- since your in-laws lived only three minutes away by car and it was on your way anyway, you personally told them that you were going to las Almas to assist your best friend in the birth of her first child

- on the way you wanted to tell phillip, but from then on something kept coming up and before you knew it you were already in las Almas

- your best friend her parents were actually from las Almas but moved to the USA before your best friend was born to give their daughter a better life there

- but apart from her parents all her relatives were in las Almas so after she met her boyfriend who was a policeman in las Almas she went back home without her parents

- her parents begged her not to go, but your best friend was much too stubborn to listen to them

- you were warmly welcomed by her new family and the birth went quite easily, both of you joking around while she almost broke your and her boyfriend's hand

- but the birth of the child went quite well and fast and you were able to go back to her house around late noon

- you helped your best friend with her baby while the others celebrated the birth of the child

- but in the evening the mood changed, it started storming

- the city became louder, at the beginning your friend joked that many babies must have been born today, but the sounds that had sounded positive before became screams and the sound of gunshots echoed from the houses

- not even half an hour passed, when armed and masked soldiers stormed the building in which you were located

- you reacted instinctively, grabbed the hand of your friend who had her baby in her arms and pulled her down from the sofa and towards the second exit

- you could hear screams behind you, then gunshots which silenced the screams

- but your friend collapsed after only a few houses, she was too weak to run as she got shot leaving the house

- she gave you her baby, told you to get her baby to safety before she sent you away

- the last thing you could hear was a gunshot and a dull sound, the sound of her body hitting the ground

- While you were on the run, Graves wondered why you didn't answer him.

- he called you several times, because normally you had texted him at least five times by now, but you didn't answer the phone

- you tried your best to get through the streets unnoticed, but the baby woke up after a shot was fired at close range

- you tried everything to silence the baby in your arms, but it was already too late and the masked men pulled you out of your hiding place, almost threw you to the ground and you barely managed to support the baby and yourself

- but you recognized the uniform of the men when you were forced next to the Mexican policemen

- they were your husband's men!

- you tried to explain to them who you were, that you wanted to talk to Phillip but one of the men just kicked you in the face

- everything went black and you lost consciousness for a few seconds

- when you woke up they had already killed the men next to you and you were also holding the gun to your head while you begged them to inform Phillip Graves, your husband

- you heard a gunshot, then another and a third and the sound of three bodies falling to the floor

- Your vision was blurry, but you recognized the man in front of you, it was Ghost. You had seen him before, years ago, when Graves talked to you on video.

- a few minutes later Graves was standing in front of his killed men, but something next to the killed policemen caught his eye

- he grabbed the something that was already full of blood and looked with pure panic at what he had just picked up

- it was the picture of him and you, but it couldn't be! The picture was still in his pocket so how...?

- pure panic flowed through his body as he reached for his phone and called you again, praying to God that you would answer the phone and he would hear your voice

- but you did not answer

- his heart stopped for a moment when he called his parents and they told him you were in las Almas, the town where he had made a bloodbath on Shephard's orders

- where his men killed everyone who got in their way.

- he then disobeyed the general's order, told his shadows not to kill anyone and to look for you before giving them a description of you

- but he didn't calm down, even though the danger of you being killed by a shadow was now zero, Ghost who knew what you looked like was running around, not to mention the men and women of the Cartel

- while they were looking everywhere for you, you went with the injured Soap, Ghost and the baby to the safehouse of a guy named Alejandro.

- Ghost and Soap told you that you were now a prisoner of theirs, since Graves had betrayed them, but you didn't care.

- You had barely survived and probably would have died without Ghost's help.

- but you also didn't want to accept what your husband had done, but you had seen it with your own eyes and couldn't deny it.

- The men who held you captive were nice considering who you were or rather who your husband was

- You begged the man named Captain Price not to kill your husband, that there had to be another way and you would do anything to keep them from harming him.

- Graves found out they had you just minutes after Price called Shepherd.

- that was the moment Graves broke completely, on the one hand he couldn't and shouldn't refuse the orders, on the other hand they had you in their grasp

- It killed him, drove him crazy knowing you were in danger.

- Price brought you into the field and Graves could see you through his scope, Price gave him an ultimatum, Graves would surrender voluntarily with his shadows and you would live if not, you would die.

- but when you collapsed next to Price after a bullet pierced you, Price fled and Graves reloaded.

- he knew there was no turning back as he looked at your body lying virtually lifeless on the sandy ground with blood pouring out of it

- you woke up later in a hospital, the bullet had hit you but not killed you, just knocked you out.

- you later learned that Graves had not surrendered, died in an explosion, and within twenty-four hours you had lost your husband and best friend

- the baby your friend had entrusted to you was taken to her still living grandparents and Phillip's parents visited you every day in the hospital

- you felt alone nonetheless, you had put your wedding ring on the side table and most of the time you were just lying around

- after one week in the hospital you discharged against the advice of your doctors

- the first night back in your home two arms wrapped around your body and the familiar smell of a certain person rose in your nose while you tried to enjoy your hot shower

- it was his raspy voice that sent a shiver down your spine

- he would make sure that no one would ever lay a hand on you again and he would stand up for his mistakes, at least to you.

- it was on you to choose between stay or go

Valeria

- being in a relationship with Valeria was everything but easy

- she gave you everything you wanted, but there was one thing she couldn't give you and that was your freedom

- she kept you behind closed bars and you lived in a golden cage, but living isolated and not being able to leave the house gnawed at your mental health

- the fact that sometimes she would just disappear for weeks and then reappear didn't make the situation any better

- you could see Almas from the villa you were living in and despite begging her to go with you to the village over and over again she never allowed it

- but you had enough of it, she always left you behind and after years of isolation you couldn't take it anymore, you finally wanted to see something different!

- there was a "party", most of the people were wearing masks and after you grabbed a mask as well as some clothes of the servants you left the building together with some servants who had a shift change

- you didn't want to leave her, you just wanted to see something different for once

- but Valeria was on Alejandro's radar since she was captured years ago and they found out that you were her partner.

- you walked happily through the streets, oblivious to the men and women following you.

- however, it wasn't long before you reached a corner where they chloroformed you and took you to a van

- Valeria, meanwhile, did not notice that you had disappeared until after her conversation with some other evil men, because you were neither at the pool, nor in your room, nor anywhere else in the villa.

- Panic coursed through every vein of her body as she yelled at her men to find out where you were.

- when she checked the security cameras and saw you undressing and throwing yourself into the servants' clothes to leave the mansion unseen, the panic was joined by pure rage

- she immediately unleashed her men to search for you while she thought of how she would punish you for what you had done

- she was informed about an hour after she realized you had disappeared that the dogs had lost track of you and that you had probably been abducted

- she knew instantly who you had been kidnapped by

- the anger she felt towards you turned into pure fear, she knew what Alejandro and Rudy were capable of

- but she was from the cartel that ruled the city and she also had her contacts in Alejandro's elite squad.

- she knew a direct attack would end in a bloodbath, but she knew if she waited too long and Alejandro tried to get information out of you, she could never forgive herself for that

- she knew what a monster Alejandro was, she knew what he would do to get information that you didn't have, but she also knew that he wouldn't believe you.

- At the end of the day, he was as brutal as she was.

- the longer you were under Alejandro's control, the stronger her hatred, her rage, and the more dangerous she became.

- she was there in person when she tried to save you, it was her job as your partner to save you.

- the way in was easier than expected, although it ended in a bloodbath on both sides

- but the moment she saw you again, the moment she knew you were now as good as safe, her feelings cooled down

- she had learned from her mistake to lock you up and keep taking you to new places, outside of Mexico, so at least you could see the world and she could make sure you would never be kidnapped again and that you were happy

- but also you had learned never to run away again, her punishment was anything but funny and yet so much more gentle than like all the others. Thankfully

König

- you were visiting a friend while your husband was away somewhere in the world doing his mission

- you hadn't heard from him for days, which was usual but you were worried, but you knew if you didn't hear from him it meant he was alive and well

- it was the idea of one of your friends you were visiting to go to a party of someone she knew

- you texted your husband of course, informing him that you were going to a party and write him as soon as you were on your way back.

- it was a really great party, the music was great, the appetizers which were offered were delicious and all in all it was a great night

- but only until you saw a familiar face, it was one of the guys your husband had been chasing and this one was supposed to be dead

- you knew it was a dangerous mafia boss from the documents of which you were not allowed to know anything

- but you knew you couldn't let your panic show

- you went to your friends, told them you were not feeling well and you would like to leave

- but they insisted that you stay and just rest, since after all their friend was throwing the party

- a bitter taste spreads in your mouth when said host came to you, asked if everything was fine and your friends said that you were not fine

- without you wanting it the host and mafia boss then took you to a quieter room where he tried to make a pass at you

- but before it could come to more he was interrupted by a smoke gas

- everything went fast, you got something taped to your mouth before a bag was pulled over your head and you were tied up

- you didn't know how much time had passed, you didn't know where you were what would happen to you now, the only thing you knew was that you were in danger

- König meanwhile waited for your message while he drove with his colleagues and the prisoners to a safe house

- but your message didn't come, you didn't answer his calls either and your cell phone was off

- he knew you wouldn't cheat on him, he also knew you always kept your promises and yet you were gone

- he could clearly feel the coming panic attack, whereupon he started to take his weapons apart and put it together again to distract himself somehow

- in his head all the scenarios were playing out, from you being bottled up, lying unconscious somewhere, being kidnapped, every scenario you could think of was playing out in his head

- hours went by, he didn't have the numbers of your friends and he had no other way to contact you

- the car you were in stopped at some point and you could feel someone grab you roughly, pull you to your feet and take you somewhere.

- you could only hear what was happening around you, fear flowed through you and you prayed that your husband had already found out that you had been kidnapped

- you were forced to the cold floor, sitting on your knees while you listened to the mafia guy being asked the same questions over and over again, you could hear blows and groans of pain from him.

- you could hear them breaking his bones, knocking out his teeth and smelling burned skin

- after a while one of the men seemed to have had enough and you could feel the barrel of a gun against your head

- it was the moment he raised his voice and threatened the mafia guy to kill you if he didn't finally speak up that you started to fight back

- it wasn't the threat to kill you, no, it was the voice you recognized

- only a few seconds after you tried to stand up your husband kicked you in the ribs

- but it also loosened the tape on your mouth, so you immediately called out his name

- the look on your face when the sack was pulled off your head and you looked into your husband's masked face, you couldn't help but weep

- you were almost abused, then kidnapped and your husband broke your ribs without knowing it

- you knew after that day you had many friends less and enough partying for the rest of your life

- and he, he felt guilty for that day for the rest of his life. Great success

Gromsko:

- it had its advantages to live somewhere in the countryside in Poland

- there were not many neighbors, those who did lived quite a distance away and otherwise it was quiet and of course safe

- your husband had many enemies, many very powerful enemies, which is why he hid you somewhere in the countryside

- you both had daily contact, be it only a sms but he wanted to make sure you were ok

- but everything peaceful had an end

- They had found out where Gromsko lived, but they did not know that he was married.

- so it was a surprise for the assassins who were after Gromsko to find you instead of him

- they knew that they could use you as a bait to get to Gromsko and he quickly realized that something was wrong, precisely because you did not answer him anymore

- he sent a friend to you, who informed him that you had probably been kidnapped

- the kidnappers were not the smartest, you quickly realized

- while Gromsko together with some old friends tracked you down, you made life difficult for your kidnappers and annoyed the hell out of em to get a waterbottle

- Gromsko, who was usually calm in person, was agitated and everyone could feel how dangerous he was becoming with each passing minute.

- he was worried about you, panic was an understatement and the hatred he felt for your kidnappers was boundless

- but also self-hatred, after all you had come into this situation because of him

- when he found out where you were being held he set out with some of his old colleagues to rescue you

- everything happened quite fast, the kidnappers did not expect that they would be found

- Gromsko was looking for you when he entered a room which looked like a cell

- you were already waiting for someone to come into your cell, and you hit the person on the head with the glass bottle you had been given

- the person you headbutted, however, grabbed you and pushed you against the nearest wall, while squeezing your throat

- you noticed who it was at the same time and he did, and he immediately let go of you, apologized for hurting you and teased you for hitting him with a bottle

- you moved to the city and got a dog to defend you when he was at work

- he never let you out of sight again, not that you knew, everyone had it’s little secrets after all

Laswell

- your wife was not always easy, especially her paranoia was not and it was a reason for many fights between you

- you knew the USA was not the safest country in the world, but you lived in a good area, hardly any crime and a nice neighborhood

- but for her no place was safe enough and she insisted that you carry a small device that would notify her if you were in big trouble

- you thought it was over the top but what wouldn't you do to make your wife happy

- and besides, she was really scary when she was angry.

- you had something to do at the bank and Kate asked you if she should come with you on her day off but you refused, after all you wanted to go shopping and get something special for her afterwards

- you were at the counter of the bank when armed men stormed the bank and you instinctively reached for the small device and pressed it

- when Kate was informed by phone that you had pressed the panic button, she didn't hesitate for a second to see where you were.

- almost at the same time the sports show she was watching changed to a news bulletin that the bank you were in was being robbed and was now being held hostage

- she didn't want to let it show as she called her friends at the CIA, but no one had ever seen her like this before

- 141 who were also nearby due to a mission, were also informed by her

- while she seemed to everyone to be in a bad mood and aggressive, Price could see the incredible amount of fear in her eyes

- he knew she would not admit it, but as it took longer and longer to get an overview of the situation she began to tremble more and more

- this only stopped when Price along with his team and a few others killed the men and got you safe and sound to your wife

- I guess it wasn't such a bad thing to have a paranoid wife after all.

1K notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 5 days

Text

Speed Limit 2525

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When Tim Bradford goes head-to-head with a bomber, he finds himself on a bus carrying a bomb and you.

Warnings: spoilers for Speed (1994) (I think this qualifies as an AU/rewrite), angst, bombings, nightmares, death and fear of dying, teasing, fluff, a little make out scene at the end? basically every warning that applies to the movie and The Rookie. I also made up a story about "Reaper"

Word Count: 11.7k+ words

A/N: This isn't completely proofread, but I'll be back soon to check it. I hope you enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Shoot him.

Tim doesn’t feel the trigger depress, only the hot desert air beating against his face. Though the trigger doesn’t move, a bullet rips through the barrel and into Tim’s only surviving squad member. He yells to warn his teammate, but no sound comes out. The wind is loud in the desert, yet the sound of Tim’s friend falling against the sand seems to echo for miles.

“Bradford,” the injured soldier coughs. “Wrong target, Reaper.”

Tim’s chest is tight with guilt and anxiety when he wakes. The sheets are wrapped tightly around his legs, and his shallow breaths distract him from freeing himself. Before he has time to orient himself, Tim’s phone rings and snaps him out of his post-nightmare, adrenaline-fueled state as he reaches across the empty pillow to answer it.

“Bradford,” he says.

“Get to the station as soon as you can,” Sergeant Grey demands. “Your Metro captain has me calling everybody in. We’re sending patrol units out, too. It’s gonna be a long day, Tim.”

Tim forgets about the nightmare and the memory within as he rushes to get ready. Tim’s tunnel vision focuses on work, and everything else fades away. Middle-of-the-night calls aren’t unusual, especially for a Metro Sergeant like himself, but this many officers getting a wake-up call is. Whatever is happening is big, and it doesn’t sound to Tim like it will be over any time soon. He makes it to the station in record time, and his commander is directing the other Metro officers when he enters.

“We don’t have time,” she says suddenly. “I’m running this force from here. Sergeant Grey will fill you in on the way. Get to the target location and stick together. Bradford, you’re with Temple!”

Tim nods as Harry Temple walks to his side. Harry was one of Angela Lopez’s first patrol partners, but he decided Metro was a better fit when the time to move forward in his career came along. Like Tim, he was in the Army before becoming a police officer, and he and Tim have some shared experiences. Neither of them is overly eager to bond over them, however.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Tim asks Harry as he turns on the lights and sirens in the shop.

“All I heard was ‘elevator,’” Harry answers. “I’m assuming they’re more to this than that.”

“Listen up,” Sergeant Grey says over the radio. “This is your official brief. When we roll up to the scene, we go straight in. No time for questions after we exit these cars. Fifteen people are trapped on an express elevator. The owner of the building is also inside. A bomb took out the cables, and our bomber is demanding three million dollars, or he blows the emergency brake, too. Cell phone service is spotty in the building, so we can’t rely on that to track anyone or anything.”

“Cell phone service is nonexistent in the elevator. A defensive move against trade secrets,” someone adds.

“What’s our clock, Sergeant?” Harry radios.

“He gave one hour when he called, which leaves us with twenty-eight minutes.”

“The only thing that’ll stop the elevator is the basement, right?” Tim adds.

“The city plans to avoid that. They’re working to release the money.”

Tim stops the shop beside the curb at the front of the building. He leaves the lights on as he and Harry remove their weapons from the back and meet the rest of their tactical team in the lobby.

“We can’t just unload them,” an officer says.

“The bomber wired the elevator doors and the hatch to trigger the bomb. So, he’s crazy, but he ain’t stupid,” Wade explains as he enters.

“Harry volunteers to examine the device,” Tim interjects. “He was on the bomb squad in the Army.”

Harry turns to glare at Tim as he says, “Right. And since Bradford also has Army experience, he’d like to provide a second opinion.”

“Fine,” Wade says. “You two check it out. Hey! Where’s the nearest access panel?”

“32nd floor,” a nearby employee answers on his way out. “It’s in the hall by the storage closet.”

“Report only. We’re in a holding pattern until we get word from your Commander back at the station. Confirm building evac and keep your radios active.”

“What about the other elevators?” Harry asks the employee.

“In an emergency, all passenger cars go to the nearest floor and shut down,” he says.

Tim frowns and moves his gun to his side. “Looks like we’re walking up the stairs.”

Harry nods before sprinting up the stairs behind Tim. Tim outpaces him but waits at the access panel for Harry to arrive with his small tool kit. He begins removing the nuts from the metal cover while Tim watches the hallway. Harry gives Tim a signal and Tim lifts the metal sheet. Light filters into the elevator shaft as Tim crawls through the opening and moves to the top of the elevator, where the bomb rests.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the L.A.P.D.,” Tim announces loudly. “There has been an elevator malfunction. Just relax and we’ll have you out of there as soon as possible.”

Harry looks up from the bomb and raises his hands in question.

“I didn’t lie,” Tim defends.

“I don’t recognize this work, Tim. Whoever our bomber is… he’s a pro and the work is solid,” Harry says.

“Bradford, Temple, hold position,” Wade radios. “We’re waiting to hear back from the bomber.”

Tim looks at his watch and muffles a curse. Their time is nearly out, and Tim continues to look at his watch rather than think about the lives in the metal death trap below his feet.

Harry sees the look in Tim’s eyes and decides to distract him. “Terrorist in a crowded room, five pounds of dynamite. He’s got a deadman’s stick. What do you do?”

“How close am I?” Tim asks, looking away from the elevator.

“Twenty feet.”

“Taser. He can’t let go with enough volts surging through him.”

“Alright, hot shot. Fifty feet?”

“Nice try.”

“Airport, then. Gunman with one hostage, using her for cover. He’s almost on a plane, you’re a hundred feet away.”

“Why is the hostage always a woman in these scenarios? Watch too many romcoms in the academy?”

“What do you do?” Harry repeats.

Tim kneels to examine the bomb once more and remembers his nightmare. Shoot him. He shakes his head before answering, “Shoot the hostage. Take her out of the equation, he can’t get to the plane, and I have a clear shot.”

“You are out of your mind, Bradford.”

“This is wrong,” Tim says suddenly. “He’s gonna blow it. How much do you think this elevator weighs?”

“Why? You wanna try to bench it?”

Tim doesn’t acknowledge the teasing as he adds, “We can do something about the hostages.”

“No shoot them, right?”

“Roof,” Tim reads as he points to a roof access sign. There’s a heavy-duty winch secured to the corner of the roof, and Tim runs to it as he says, “We don’t shoot them. Just take them out of the equation.”

Tim pulls the cable from the winch toward the elevator housing on the roof. He drops it in and watches it fall several feet before it catches.

“It’ll hold,” Tim tells Harry. “It’ll hold,” he repeats, quieter.

“Six minutes,” Harry alerts.

Tim throws his legs over the edge of the housing and lowers carefully onto the elevator cable. He hooks the winch hook to his tactical vest before moving down in the elevator shaft. Wade and the Metro team argue with the city council about releasing the money in the lobby, and no one has a clue that the shooter is listening to their radio frequencies. Without cell phones, they’re completely reliant on their radios to stay in touch with one another. Tim ignores his radio as he flips so he’s headfirst as he nears the trapped elevator.

“One more pop quiz,” Harry begins. “Psycho Sergeant Tim Bradford rigs an elevator to drop thirty stories. What do you do?”

Tim rolls his eyes before gesturing for Harry to hold the winch cable steady. A small pile of C4 waits beside his feet, but Tim ignores it as he secures the cable hook to the frame of the elevator.

“Why did I take this job?” Tim murmurs.

“Hey, a few more decades and you get a tiny pension and a free watch,” Harry answers.

“Hit the switch, Temple.”

Harry runs to the winch, hoping that the cables used to wash windows are strong enough to catch a free-falling elevator. He flips the switch, and the winch begins pulling in the cable. As the extra cable Tim pulled into the shaft begins unspooling, he moves up to the open access panel.

In the basement, a man missing a thumb presses a button on his handheld device. Instantaneously, a red light illuminates on the bomb. Tim sees it and throws himself through the access panel just before the bomb goes off. The passengers begin screaming, but the winch catches the falling elevator before it reaches the bottom of the shaft.

“What is happening, Bradford?” Wade asks, his concern evident over the radio.

“He’s early!” Harry yells as he returns from the roof.

“We have to get them out of the elevator. They can’t be lower than 28,” Tim exclaims.

When he and Harry meet the rest of their team on the 28th floor, they see that the elevator is stranded between floors. Only the floor is accessible from their current position, but there is no time to run up and down the stairs and look for the perfect access point. The elevator passengers lower to the floor and Tim and Harry pull people out one at a time. Tim pulls the last woman to safety seconds before the winch fails and the elevator plummets to the bottom of the shaft. After the sound of impact, Tim and Harry lean back against a wall and pant from the effort they exerted.

“Is your watch slow?” Tim asks.

“Nah. He jumped the gun,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “We had three minutes.”

“He blew more than the elevator. He blew his three million dollars. Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth it.”

Tim sits up as he declares, “He’s here.”

“He could have blown that thing from anywhere, Tim.”

“He knew we were doing something, that’s why he acted early. That means he’s close.”

“He’s not gonna corner himself in the building. The building we evacuated.” Harry leans his head back against the wall and thinks for a moment before he adds, “He’d want to be here, yes, but stay mobile… The elevators.”

“All of the passenger cars stopped, and we checked them.”

“Did we check the freight elevators?”

Tim’s eyes widen in realization as he and Harry push themselves to stand and run to the freight elevator doors. Once Tim pries the door open, he slides down the cable and lands on top of a car. Harry reluctantly follows and freezes when a noise echoes inside. Tim doesn’t notice Harry behind him as he prepares to enter the elevator. Before he can, a shotgun is fired between them, and Harry falls into the elevator. The man inside knocks him out with the butt of the shotgun, and Tim waits until the elevator moves up to drop in through the roof panel. As he lands, he looks up and sees a shotgun barrel in his face.

“I don’t suppose anybody would pay me three million dollars just for you,” the nine-fingered bomber muses.

He pulls the trigger, but the gun is empty. Tim removes his Glock from his side and demands the bomber lower the shotgun. He does so but opens his coat to reveal dynamite strapped to his chest and a deadman switch detonator in his hand.

“Hotshot,” the man begins. Tim’s jaw clenches as he realizes the man listened to their conversations over the radio, but he can’t say anything before the bomber says, “Terrorist holding a police hostage. He’s got enough dynamite to blow the building in half. What do you do?”

“Fifty cops are waiting for us in the basement,” Tim states.

“Standard flanking, I’m aware.” He presses a button on a device wired into the elevator controls. “So, maybe we’ll get off early.”

The elevator stops at a parking level, and Tim watches as the bomber pulls Harry toward the door. His eyes open slowly, and Tim keeps his eyes on Harry rather than the man pulling him.

“Well, end of the line, Bradford. This day has been a real disappointment, I don’t mind saying.”

“Why? Because you couldn’t kill everyone?” Tim asks.

“There will come a time, hotshot, when you will wish you’d never met me.”

“I’m already there.”

“Look! I have your partner, I’m in charge! I drop this stick and they clean us up with a sponge!”

“Go ahead!” Harry yells. “Drop the stick!” “Shut up!” Tim demands.

Harry looks at Tim and mouths, “Shoot the hostage.”

Shoot him. Wrong target, Reaper. Tim takes a deep breath and shifts his arms to shoot Harry in the leg. He collapses onto the floor, and the bomber steps back in shock before running into the garage. Tim steps over Harry to shoot behind the feeling suspect. As the man reaches the door, he looks over his shoulder to smile at Tim before he disappears. Tim can’t check on Harry as the garage explodes and the force pushes him back against the wall. As Tim collides with the concrete behind him, everything goes dark. And everything changes.

After Harry’s unplanned and involuntary retirement party, Tim nearly oversleeps. His alarm pulls him from a dreamless sleep, and he winces at the sound before turning it off. Before he showers, he decides to go for a quick run to clear his head. Once he’s dressed and ready for the day, he drives to his favorite café. It’s one of the only places in Los Angeles where you can get a decent cup of coffee and breakfast without being surrounded by millennials working on their screenplays. Tim nods at another regular, Vince, as he enters.

“Hey, Tim. You look awful,” Bob, the owner of the café, says.

“Thanks, Bob,” Tim grumbles.

“Pretty boy party too hard?” Vince asks Tim.

“I- I don’t remember that well.”

“Wake up alone?”

“Always do.”

“Must be nice,” Bob interjects. “The last time I partied like that I worked up married.”

Tim shakes his head as he accepts his order and walks out behind Vince. He sets his coffee on top of his truck as he retrieves his keys from his pocket. Vince’s bus starts behind Tim and pulls away from the curb. Tim turns to wave at Vince before unlocking his door.

After it crosses the first intersection, the bus explodes. Tim stumbles as he looks toward the source of the noise. He runs to the bus as it rolls to a stop and fights against the flames to help Vince, but it’s too late. As Tim lays his hands on his knees in shock, he notices an abandoned cell phone lying on the sidewalk behind him. It rings continuously, and Tim doesn’t hesitate before he answers the phone.

“What do you think, Bradford?” the bomber from last month asks. “You think if you and Harry find all the driver’s teeth they’ll give you another medal?”

“Where are you?” Tim demands.

“Twenty-second delay. I’m in the air duct when the garage blows. Did you think I wouldn’t come prepared? I spent two years on the elevator job. Two years. I invested myself in it. You couldn’t understand the commitment I have. A child, Tim, you’re a child. You ruin a man’s life’s work and then think you can walk away. You’ve got blinders on, but I got your attention now. Didn’t I, Tim?”

“Why didn’t you just come after me?”

“This is about money – 3.7 million. Not you and your ego. None of it had to happen, Tim, and I hope you realize that. How long do you think the driver’s wife and kids will wait before they get worried tonight?”

“When I find you, I will kill you,” Tim threatens.

“There’s a bomb on a bus, hotshot. Once the bus hits fifty miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If the bus drops below fifty, it blows up. What do you do?”

Tim doesn’t answer but looks around for any sign of the suspect.

“What do you do?” he repeats.

“I’d want to know what bus it was,” Tim answers. He’s accepted the challenge and knows that it has to end with a death: either his or the bomber’s.

“You think I’m going to tell you that, Tim?”

“Yes.”

“Very good.” The man sounds happy, and Tim presses a hand against a nearby wall to control his anger. “Now there are rules, Tim; we have to do this right. No one gets off the bus. One passenger leaves, I will detonate it. Now, if I don’t get my money by 11 a.m., there’s also a timer.”

Tim looks at his watch: 8:05 a.m. “I can’t pull that money in time-“

“Focus, Tim! Your concern is the bus. Don’t call, the radios are jammed. Number 2525, running downtown from Venice. At the corner of Lincoln and Pico…”

Tim drops the cell phone and runs to his car to follow the bus. The lives on that bus are in his hands, and he doesn’t plan to shoot any hostages today.

“Please stop! Sam!” you yell as you chase your bus.

You don’t want to ride the bus, but since your most recent speeding ticket, it is your only mode of transportation. In the few weeks since your license was suspended, you’ve gotten to know the driver, Sam, and some of the regular passengers. You hope that camaraderie is enough to convince Sam to stop for you. The brakes on the bus squeal as it stops, and the door opens.

“This look like a stop to you?” Sam asks.

“You are an amazing man, Sam,” you say as you walk onto the bus. “The men in books and songs have nothing on you.”

You swipe your bus card and take a seat before saying hello to Ortiz, a regular passenger. Comfortable in your seat, and glad that none of the passengers are in a talkative mood this early on a weekday, you relax and hope to get your car back soon.

Tim drives his truck in and out of traffic, onto the shoulder, and into the emergency lane as he tries to catch up with bus 2525. Other drivers honk their horns, flip him off, and yell insults through open windows, but Tim doesn’t notice or care. If he can stop the driver before it reaches 50, then the bomb will never activate. The only danger would be the man with the detonator.

You look up as Sam slows for a traffic jam.

“Can’t you just drive over them?” you ask with a smile.

“Is it always like this?” a man asks from the back of the bus. “It’s my first time here, and it took me three hours just to get out of the airport.”

“Yep,” you answer. “It’s usually worse.”

“That’s why I never drive,” the woman behind you interjects. “I’d never have a car in this city.”

“I have a car. I miss my car,” you lament.

“In the shop?” the tourist asks.

“Something like that. Sam, seriously, the bus is huge, just run them over,” you say again.

When Tim sees the bus has stopped because of a stalled car ahead, he sighs before he pulls onto the shoulder. He exits his truck and runs toward the bus, but the accident clears faster than he expected, and begins moving before he reaches the door. Hitting his fist against the side, Tim yells for the driver to stop.

“Can’t blame him for wanting to get on the bus,” you mutter as you watch him slap an open palm against the door.

“Get off the doors, man! Wait for the next one,” Sam yells before he speeds up.

Tim removes his badge from his pocket a moment too late. He continues chasing the bus, and you look down at your phone as the other passengers watch the unknown man run down the freeway.

Nearly half a mile from his truck and with no other option, Tim stops and waits at the edge of the road. He sees a speeding sports car approaching, and he moves into the middle of its lane and raises his badge.

“Stop!” Tim yells over the traffic.

The young man driving the car slams on his brakes to avoid hitting Tim. Several cars behind him blow their horns, and he raises to yell over the convertible’s windshield.

“What the-“

“L.A.P.D.,” Tim interrupts. “Get out of the car.”

“This is my car! It ain’t stolen and you have no right!” the driver argues.

Tim pulls his gun from its holster and says, “It’s stolen now. Move over.”

The man nods quickly before he jumps over the console and settles into the passenger seat. Tim sits behind the wheel and swerves into another lane as he ignores the owner’s pleas not to scratch the car. Tim drives the expensive, sporty convertible exactly as he had driven his truck, and the man in the passenger seat covers his eyes in fear for his car more than his life. As Tim steers the car beside the bus, he lays on the horn. Sam looks over and immediately recognizes him, and his eyes widen to prove it.

“I’m a cop!” Tim yells.

Sam lowers the window and raises his voice to ask, “What?”

“L-A-P-D!” Tim spells slowly. “There’s a bomb on your bus.”

“There’s a what?” Tim’s passenger exclaims.

“I can’t hear you,” Sam says.

“There’s a bomb on the bus!” Tim repeats.

Sam shakes his head, and Tim looks at the convertible’s speedometer. He’s over 50, so the bus must be, too.

“Drive!” Tim yells as he gestures for the bus to keep moving. “FIFTY! STAY ABOVE FIFTY!”

Sam nods rapidly and trembles a bit as he holds the speed steady. The commotion draws your attention, and you turn in your seat to watch the man who desperately needs a ride or is crazy.

“Call the Mid-Wilshire division station,” Tim says as he hands his phone to the man beside him. “Ask for Detective Angela Lopez.”

“Okay, okay.” The man speaks into the phone briefly before passing it back to Tim.

“Angela,” Tim says.

“Why are you calling me on your day off?” she asks. “Harry’s here, if you’re looking for him.”

“He’s alive.”

“Who?”

“The bomber! He’s back.”

“Harry!” Angela calls.

“Tim, did he hit the bus in Venice?” Harry asks as he approaches Angela’s desk.

“Temple,” Wade interrupts. “We just got a ransom demand from your dead terrorist. Says he rigged a city bus. Where’s Tim?”

“Where do you think?” Harry replies.

Tim ends the call and navigates around the back of the bus to drive alongside the door. Traffic is increasing with the morning rush, and he doesn’t want to risk getting stuck in another slowdown. He honks to get Sam’s attention, and gestures for him to open the door.

“Drive straight,” Tim directs him. “Stay in this lane.”

Sam agrees before Tim speeds up to get ahead of the bus. He opens the driver-side door and hits the brakes, so the bus rips the door off the car. Tim presses the accelerator again to catch up with the bus as he is yelled at by the owner of the car.

“Take the wheel!” Tim says.

Tim waits until the car’s owner moves back into the driver’s seat to jump into the open bus door and pull himself up the stairs.

When the bus rips the door off a convertible, you finally look up. The man driving the car beside the bus is attractive, but you’re a little concerned for his mental well-being. Sam seems willing to help him, and you don’t understand why. When he jumps from the car and onto the bus, you stand and grip the bar above your head. He locks eyes with you before holding up a police badge.

“Everyone, I’m Sergeant Tim Bradford, L.A.P.D. We’ve got a slight… situation on the bus,” he explains.

“Are you crazy?” you ask.

“Ma'am, if you’ll please sit down, we can deal with this in an orderly-“

“But what are you-“

“Ma’am.”

His tone and the look in his eyes convinces you, so you sit down as Tim walks toward the back of the bus and looks at the other passengers. You watch him move and wonder if he’s truly a cop or just insane.

“Just stay in your seats and remain quiet,” Tim says. “Then we’ll be able to defuse the, uh, the problem.”

A passenger you’ve spoken to before, Jay, leaps from his seat and points a gun at Tim.

“Jay!” you yell worriedly.

“Get away from me!” Jay demands.

Tim pulls his gun and matches Jay’s stance. Two women at the back of the bus scream, and you look between Tim and Jay from your seat.

“I don’t know you, I’m not here for you. Let’s not do this,” Tim says calmly.

“Stop the bus, Sam,” Jay calls.

“He can’t. Look, I’m going to put my gun away.” Tim holsters it slowly and raises his hands to show they’re empty. “I don’t care about what you did. It’s over. I’m not a cop right now. See? We’re just two guys on the bus.”

Tim tosses his badge to the floor beside your feet, and you look at it before raising your eyes to Jay again. You understand why he calmed down so quickly; Tim Bradford has a soothing voice, and his presence is assertive but caring. More importantly, you can relax now, because his badge looks real. Jay’s hands begin to lower, but your fellow passenger Ortiz jumps onto his back before Jay puts it away.

Tim rushes forward as Ortiz tries to pull the gun from Jay. A shot goes off, and everyone ducks before a second shot fires.

“Sam!” someone screams.

You turn toward the front of the bus before moving to help Sam. Tim disarms Jay with minimal effort while another woman joins your side.

“Move him,” you say.

“He’s bleeding,” the woman argues.

“We have to stop the bus!”

At your words, Tim spins quickly to face you.

“No!” he yells. “Stay above fifty.”

“Sam is wounded,” you begin.

“You slow down, and this bus will explode!”

Tim holds your eyes and nods slowly. He’s not kidding, you realize. Turning quickly, you look at the speedometer, which falls to 51. While Sam is still in the seat, you push your foot onto the gas pedal and watch the line rise above fifty.

Tim handcuffs Jay to one of the poles before he explains, “There is a bomb on this bus. If we slow down, it will blow. If anyone tries to get off, it will blow.”

The women on the bus surround Sam and help him get comfortable as they try to slow the bleeding. As they pull Sam from the driver’s seat, you slide into position and steer into another lane to keep the speed over 50.

“We’re only gonna make it through this if everyone stays calm, sits down, and listens to me,” Tim adds.

You don’t hear everything he says, with your complete focus on the road ahead and the speedometer on the dash. Your knuckles are white because of your grip on the wheel, and you don’t hear Tim approach behind you. He lays a hand on the headrest behind you and leans down.

“This is great. A bomb on wheels,” you muse sarcastically.

“Can you handle this bus, ma’am?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just like driving a big Toyota, right?”

“Can you handle it?”

“I’m fine. What’s the plan? Is there a plan?”

Tim nods and stands to his full height. He watches you take a deep breath before turning to the rest of the passengers.

“Everyone, I need your cell phones,” Tim announces.

“No way, man!” the tourist yells.

“There is a terrorist out there with a bomb, and I don’t need any of you live streaming or interfering with the radio signal he could be using to detonate a bomb. So, I will only say this one more time. Phones - and anything else with a cellular connection – now.”

The passengers nod and offer all of their cellular devices. Tim accepts an empty bag from a woman beside Sam and places everyone’s belongings inside. He returns to your side and removes his phone from his pocket.

“Do you have anyone you need to call?” Tim asks softly.

“No. I- I don’t want to think like that,” you answer.

“We don’t have to. Everything’s going to be okay. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

You nod and Tim lays a kind hand on your shoulder to add, “But I need your phone.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s- uh- it’s in my back pocket. Right side.”

Tim’s hand brushes your lower back as he pulls the phone from your pocket. He apologizes, though you can’t imagine why. You’ve only known Tim Bradford for a few minutes, but his words mean something, and you can only hope he keeps the promises he’s making.

“You’re a cop, right?” you ask.

“That’s right. Metro Sergeant,” Tim says. “But you can call me Tim if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Uh, no. Thanks, and you can stop calling me ‘ma’am’ while we’re at it. I just- I should probably tell you that I’m taking the bus because my driver’s license was suspended.”

“What for?”

“Speeding.”

Tim shakes his head and hides his smile before calling the station again. He leans forward, but keeps his hand beside you, to look at the news chopper circling above the bus.

“Lopez, it’s me. I took phones from all the passengers. Where do we start?” Tim asks.

“Alright. Harry and Wade are with me,” Angela replies.

“Check the speedometer, Bradford,” Harry says. “Has it been messed with? Any wires or anything that don’t belong?”

“Sorry,” Tim whispers as he leans in front of you to check the dash area. “No, it’s clean.”

“Then it’s gotta be under the bus. Probably rigged to one of the axles.”

“I can’t get under the bus to check right now. The whole you stop, you die thing. Remember?”

Tim doesn’t sound like he’s kidding; in fact, he sounds grumpier than when he first boarded, but his comment makes you laugh. He pats the back of your seat before turning.

“Sergeant Bradford,” Sam calls weakly. Tim kneels beside him to listen, and Sam stutters, “There’s a- an access panel… in the fl-floor.”

“Hold on, Angela,” Tim says into the phone.

He unscrews the panel and pulls it aside. The asphalt moves quickly under the bus, and Tim looks around before handing his phone to a passenger. You look up in the mirror above you to watch Tim briefly before returning your attention to the road.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Stephen. I’m a tourist,” Stephen introduces.

“Welcome to the City of Angels. Hold my phone, please. Tell my partner what I see.”

Stephen nods and raises the phone to his ear as Tim moves so he can see under the bus. He takes a deep breath; Tim knows a bit about bombs from his time in the Army, but it’s Harry’s expertise.

“Okay, there’s a bundle here,” Tim yells over the wind. “Pretty big.”

“There’s a pretty big bundle,” Stephen relays.

“Brass fittings. I think I can reach the circuit wire.”

“He can reach the circuit wire- No, don’t do that, Sergeant Bradford. It can be a decoy, he says. What else?”

“Hold on,” Tim murmurs before moving further underneath the bus. He sees the extent of the bomb and pulls himself back up to take the phone. “Angela, Harry, there’s enough C4 on this bus to take out everyone on the highway. There’s a wristwatch: gold band, cheap.”

You look back at Tim quickly before inhaling sharply. “Sergeant,” you call.

“What do you think, Harry?” Tim asks.

“Bradford!” you yell into the bus speaker.

Tim moves to your side and places a hand on the dash to lean forward. His face is right beside yours, and you wish you were nervous because of him and not the bomb underneath you.

“Everybody’s stopping,” you point out. “What do I do?”

“Get on the shoulder.”

“This is an exit!”

Tim flinches as you sideswipe several cars.

“Tim!”

“Off. Get off!” Tim yells.

You nearly miss the ramp and pull the wheel to the right to merge onto another road. Honking the horn and yelling for people to get out of the way, you take a deep breath. At least you’re off the freeway. Tim tells you to keep driving as he answers his phone again.

“Where?” he asks. “Got it.”

“Do I stay here?” you inquire.

“Yes. Just straight on this, they’re trying to clear the roads for us.”

“I’m never getting my license back, am I?” you grumble.

“The police commissioner will buy you a car if you ask,” Tim says quietly. “You’re doing well, okay? Don’t worry about anything else.”

You nod and return both hands to the wheel. Tim removes the flannel shirt he’s been wearing, leaving him in a white t-shirt, and drapes it over the back of your seat. Your eyes catch on his biceps before you chide yourself for getting distracted.

One of the phones in the bag rings, and Tim yells, “Who didn’t turn their phone off?”

No one is willing to admit their fault or doesn’t want to risk dealing with Tim’s wrath and ending up like Jay where he sits on the floor. Tim digs through the bag and pulls the ringing phone out. The number is one he recognizes, but he hesitates before answering.

“Taking their phones was smart,” the bomber says as the line connects. “2525… nice passengers, aren’t they? See, that’s the beauty of being in this day and age. I know everything about everyone on that bus. So, if you or your little girlfriend, or even the tourist from Kalamazoo try to double-cross me…”

“The bus explodes,” Tim interjects. “I’m aware.”

“What’s with the attitude, Tim? You’re seeing one of the prettiest places in the world, riding a bus for free… Oh, no, I know. Can’t shoot a hostage that makes that cold heart beat again, huh?”

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want! 3.7 million dollars. I get the money, and then we can both get what we want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know what you don’t want. Tell your girlfriend to keep her eyes on the road.”

The call ends and Tim raises the cell phone in his hands. “He knows who is on this bus.”

“How?” Ortiz asks.

“Your bus passes, your phones, both, maybe. Look, one of the conditions of our survival is that no one gets off the bus. If he knows who you are, then we are even more obligated to keep that promise.”

“You didn’t even try to get us off the bus!” Jay accuses.

“Because he would have blown it. I understand what you are feeling, but I need you to trust me, trust the L.A.P.D., and work with me on this.”

“Tim is this your team?” you ask over your shoulder.

A police car pulls into the lane in front of you as several more flank the sides of the bus. The road clears around them, but more news choppers are joining the airspace above you.

Tim nods and looks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. What happens now, though?”

“My teammates are working on it. We’ve got gas and open road, so keep driving.”

“Is it- can I be okay and really nervous at the same time?”

“I’d be more concerned if you weren’t nervous.”

“You don’t look nervous.”

“My friend Angela says I never look anything; thinks I can’t show emotion because I can’t feel them.”

“Is it true?”

Tim looks at you and lowers to squat beside you. “No, it’s not.”

“How’s Sam?”

“The driver? He’s gonna be alright. Thanks to you.”

Someone calls for Tim, and he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly as he stands. You glance at him in the mirror as he returns to the access panel. A police helicopter drops to fly above you, and you wonder what the news stations and police officers know or think about the situation. The bus begins losing speed as you steer around a curve, and when you try to speed up again, you realize something is wrong.

Back at the station, Harry and Angela work with Wade and a bomb expert to search for a way to disarm the bomb and for their suspect. Harry has a description of the bomber, but there’s only so much they can learn about the bomb without seeing it.

“Sergeant Bradford!” you cry as you press the gas again.

“What?” Tim asks with wide eyes. You were calling him Tim, and your sudden change of formality and tone concern him.

“The gas pedal’s stuck.”

“What else can go wrong?” Tim asks under his breath. “Move your foot.”

You pull your foot from the pedal and steer as Tim presses his leg against yours to slam his foot down against the pedal. It doesn’t move, and the speedometer dips closer to fifty. Tim moves his hands to cover yours on the steering wheel and moves his leg between yours to try a new angle. You’re close to him, but the fear of dying keeps you from enjoying it in any way. He pushes the pedal again and his shoulders drop.

“There,” he announces as he steps back.

You take the wheel back and press the accelerator down again. The bus gains speed and you catch up to the police car before you.

“Lopez, talk to me,” Tim greets as he answers his phone again.

“You’ve got a hard left coming up,” Angela says. “Really hard.”

“Hard left up ahead,” Tim tells you.

“We’ll tip!” you argue.

“Who is that? Your driver?” Angela inquires.

“We’re not going to tip,” Tim says.

“Yes, we are!”

The curve in the road comes into view, and Tim suddenly agrees, “We’re going to tip.”

He leaves your side to move everyone onto the right side of the bus. The weight distribution keeps the bus from tipping, but as Tim helps you pull the wheel as hard as possible to make the turn, you forget why you were concerned. His presence is the only thing keeping you calm, and you wish he could just sit beside you the whole time.

“Angela, get those news crews off our tail!” he yells over the cheers of the passengers.

You look in the mirror beside you. The news crews must have arrived recently because you didn’t notice them before.

“On it. Harry’s working with the bomb squad. Keep it fifty,” Angela responds.

“Don’t try to make that a thing, Lopez,” Tim says before he ends the call.

“Hey, who’s doing this?” you ask Tim.

“The bomber? He’s just a guy who’s angry with me for foiling his last bombing attempt,” Tim explains.

“So, he’s trying again? Using you to get whatever it is he wants?”

“More or less.”

“What if you stop him again?”

“We do this again tomorrow. Until one of us dies trying.”

“That won’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not available to drive tomorrow.”

Tim nods but doesn’t reply before a flatbed truck merges into the lane beside the door. His Metro captain and two officers are on the back, and the driver blows the horn to get his attention. Tim opens the door and moves out of the door to talk to them. You can’t hear much but suspect that they want to get the hostages off the bus, which Tim already said was impossible. Your sudden and unbending trust in him should probably concern you, but you will do anything and everything he tells you, even if that means staying on a bus with a bomb on it.

“He called the station looking for you,” an officer announces.

“Why? He has my cell,” Tim says.

“Maybe it died.”

“Just give him my number again! And keep looking; find this guy so we can move these people.”

Tim steps onto the main platform again and closes the door.

“Are they going to help us?” the woman holding Sam’s head up asks.

“Sure, they will. They’re the police,” someone jokes.

Another phone rings in the bag, and Tim pulls your phone out this time. He hadn’t thought to turn yours off because he was concerned about you and wanted to make sure you could drive like the bus needed to be driven.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Tim, you know I trust you. But it looks to me like you’re trying to move passengers off the bus,” the bomber says.

“I need one as an act of faith,” Tim argues. “The driver has been shot.”

“You shot another hostage?”

“He’s dying! If you want your money, show a little charity.”

The line is quiet for a moment before the bomber says, “Fine. You can try to get the driver off. I have more people to kill. Tell your girlfriend behind the wheel not to slow down or he won’t get a chance to bleed out.”

“We’re getting the driver off,” Tim announces after returning your phone to the bag. “Just him for now.”

Ortiz moves out of the seat to help Tim move Sam to the door and onto the truck.

“Get as close as you can,” Tim says. “A little closer.”

The side of the bus hits the truck and swerves, and you rush to apologize.

“It’s okay.” Tim says your name, and you know that he means what he says. “Perfect! Hold it steady!”

You sigh as Tim walks past you again after getting Sam to safety, but then you see a woman walking toward the door. The officers on the truck reach out to help her, unaware of what will happen if she steps off the bus.

“No!” you yell.

“I have to,” she responds.

“No! Don’t get off! Stop!”

An explosion echoes through the bus as the steps fall out and go underneath the bus. The female passenger disappears after she falls with the debris, and you look away quickly as Tim falls forward trying to catch her.

“You’ve got to get those choppers out of here!” Tim yells to his captain. “He’s watching!”

The bus is silent as Tim stands up and waits beside you. With your eyes on the road, he doesn’t see the tear that leaks out. When the passengers start arguing behind you, your grip on the wheel tightens.

“Hey!” Tim calls as he turns to face them. They silence, and he moves his attention to you. “How are you doing?”

Tim steps forward, sees the tears covering your face, and squats with an arm behind you. “What can I do?”

His voice is softer than when he yelled at the men behind you, and you can’t lie to him.

“I thought that was the bomb. When I heard it… I thought everything was over. But then I saw her fall under the bus, and-“

“You’re glad you’re still alive,” Tim finishes.

“I’m so sorry. Does that make me a terrible person?”

“No. It doesn’t mean you don’t care. We’re still alive, and we’re all allowed to be thankful for that. The guy who put us here? He’s a terrible person. Don’t think that you’re a bad person. You’re not.”

“Tim,” you say before pointing to his Captain, who is waving for his attention.

“There’s a gap in the freeway. It’s big. We have to get these people off, Tim,” he says.

“You know I can’t, Captain.”

“Tim?” you ask as he walks past you. “What’d he say?”

“There’s a gap in the road,” Tim tells everyone.

“How big is a gap?” Ortiz asks.

“50 feet, a couple of miles ahead,” Tim says.

“Tim?” you repeat. “What if I shift down and just keep the engine revving?”

“He thought of that… Floor it.”

“What?”

“There’s an interchange, maybe there’s an incline. Just floor it.”

“Okay.”

“Everyone keep your heads down.”

The police car leading you falls off the side, but you continue driving toward the unfinished overpass. The needle on the speedometer nears 70, and Tim waits beside you. As you approach the end, Tim yells for everyone to hold on. He puts his arms around you and pulls your head down with his. You feel weightless for a moment, grounded only by his arms around you before the bus collides with the other side of the interchange. Looking up over Tim’s arm, you see more road ahead and press the gas again, so you don’t slow down.

Your forehead begins to burn and hurt, and you press your palm against your temple as the people behind you cheer. Tim checks on everyone before returning to your side, and he immediately realizes that you’re in pain. He moves your hand and presses the bottom of his shirt to your head. It’s stained with blood when he pulls his hand away, and you grimace at the idea of a wound on your head.

“Get off here!” Tim calls suddenly.

“Yes! Get off!”

You obey and soon enter the Los Angeles International Airport. Tim gives you directions to an emergency runway and explains that you can simply drive here. Without traffic or road closures, the only concern is staying above fifty.

Being in restricted air space is also a bonus, and you notice that the news helicopters are hovering at a distance. Tim seemed concerned about the presence of news cameras, so maybe the location will also keep the bomber from knowing exactly what is happening.

“Yeah?” Tim asks as he answers his phone.

“The airport. Well done. You had some close calls, but you did well, Tim,” the bomber says.

“What do you want?”

“My money. Help me get it before it’s too late, will you? The negotiators think I’m doing this for fun?”

“Are you not?”

“Oh, now you think you know me too?”

“I know you want money you didn’t earn. More than you deserve.”

“I did earn it! I got a medal, too, you know.”

“Let me off. If you want my help, I need to explain that you’re not bluffing. Just me.”

“Alright. But you have to come back. I can see everything; remember that.”

Tim ends the call and slides his phone back in his pocket.

“There’s a plan now?” you ask.

“Maybe. He’s letting me off,” Tim says.

“Hey, don’t forget about us,” you call as he steps off the bus and onto an SUV. “He’ll be back,” you promise the others.

While you circle the airport runways, Tim works with the other officers he told you about to find a way to disarm the bomb. Ortiz walks to your side and looks out at the airport.

“Ortiz?” you ask.

“He’s not coming back, I’m telling you,” he says.

“He didn’t have to get on in the first place. Hey, get behind the yellow line.”

Ortiz looks down and takes on short step back. “You let the cop up here.”

“What is that?” Stephen asks as he joins Ortiz.

“I have no idea,” you answer as you look at Tim standing on the back of a truck covered in machinery. It pulls over in front of you, and Tim lowers onto a cart attached to a winch, and you mutter, “I was right. He is insane.”

“How’d they get that so fast?” Stephen asks under his breath.

You focus more on driving in a straight line as Tim disappears under the front of the bus. He looks up at you just before he disappears, and you nod once. Knowing that he’s under the bus makes you more nervous to drive than you have been at any other point today. Driving in a straight line at the airport is more stressful because Tim is underneath a moving vehicle and touching a bomb. You know he has friends and colleagues who are helping him, but you feel more than a need to survive when you look at Sergeant Tim Bradford.

The winch on the truck releases suddenly, and the cable unfurls.

“Check and see if he came out the back!” you demand. “Can you see him?”

“He’s not back here!” Ortiz calls.

“Look under the bus! Back by the tires!”

“I don’t see him.”

The winch cable snaps and the back tire bounces over something. You press a hand over your mouth in shock, and Ortiz runs to the back access panel.

“Please tell me he’s alright!” you yell. “Do you see him?”

“I see him!” Ortiz responds. “He’s alright!”

You look back and forth between the empty runway and the back of the bus. Ortiz and Stephen pull Tim up onto the bus, and you can’t decide whether to be angry or relieved with him. Tim thanks Ortiz before walking to your side.

“How are you?” he asks.

“You scared me!” you accuse. You slap his vest to express your displeasure before hissing in pain. “What’s that smell?”

“Gas. We have a new leak.” “You caused a leak?”

“It was that or get run over. You can see the difficulty I had choosing.”

“Don’t try to be funny right now. I thought I killed you.”

“I’ll ask my captain to get a fuel truck.”

“Will it work?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not exactly comforting, you know that?”

“You just hit me and now you want comfort?”

You sigh and look at him again before saying, “Thank you, Tim.”

“Just doing my job… ma’am.”

Tim stays beside you while Harry and a S.W.A.T. team infiltrate the house listed on the bomber’s records. He was surprised by how quickly they found his identification, but now that they have the element of surprise, he hopes that this game is almost over.

When he gets another call, you can only see the anger in his eyes as he listens to the person on the other end. The bomber tells Tim that Harry and the S.W.A.T. team walked right into his trap. You watch him and can only wonder what is making him so mad. His life is in danger, but something is capable of pushing him even further, it seems.

“I’m going to rip your spine out. If you know as much as you think you do, you know I can,” Tim threatens lowly.

“Oh, I do, Reaper. That’s why you should do what you’re told. You and I both know you can’t do it without Harry and his ability to follow a cheap watch, anyway. Get me my money and it’s over. Otherwise, you, lumberjack-ie, and the others are dead. Got that?”

“Yeah,” Tim says after a moment. “Howie.”

The bomber hesitates at the mention of his real name but doesn’t let it stop him. Tim listens to Howard Payne’s demands before ending the call. Tim turns around and kicks where the stairs used to be before pulling against the handrail in his anger. You try to get his attention over his yelling, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Tim! Please!” you try again. “I can’t do this without you. Please.”

Tim slows his movements before gripping the rail beside you. His jaw is clenched as he looks at you, but your pleas soften his eyes.

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“We’re going to die,” he says.

“No. You got us this far, right?”

Tim leans against the dash beside you and looks at you. His shirt is still behind you. Lumberjack-ie. Your little girlfriend.

“Lumberjacks wear flannel, right?” Tim asks.

“Uh, yeah. As far as I know,” you answer. “Why?”

“He can see you.”

“What?”

“Keep looking straight ahead.”

You turn your face to the windshield and watch the runway as Tim examines the top of the bus. He sees the camera at the top of the windshield and shakes his head.

“He said, ‘your girlfriend behind the wheel’ and ‘lumberjack-ie’. I didn’t even realize. There’s a camera in your face. He can see the whole bus.”

“He can see me, but can he hear me?” you ask.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Bus cameras can’t be very high-tech, Tim. Can’t your people get it on a loop or something?”

“You’re brilliant,” Tim murmurs before pushing himself off the dash and to his feet. “Guys, there’s a camera over my left shoulder. I need everyone to sit still. No big movements, no talking, just look concerned and sit still.”

He calls his captain and asks for someone to approach the news trucks at the fence to end the live broadcasts and use their equipment to make a video loop. His captain agrees and texts Tim with an update that the reporters are cooperating.

“Remember, stay relatively still. Just look scared,” Tim reminds everyone.

“That won’t be hard,” Ortiz grumbles.

Tim leans beside you while the video is being recorded. You drive in silence for a minute before noticing the blinking red light on the dash.

“Tim,” you whisper. “Look.”

“Cap, roll the tape. We need fuel,” Tim says into his phone.

“We only have a minute recorded. That won’t convince him, we need more footage” Wade argues.

“No time. Get these people off before this bus runs out of gas.”

“Fuel tanker is running behind. Driver said big rigs need radio signals, and they’re still jammed. Crazy not stupid, right?”

“Right.”

“Now what?” you ask Tim. “Are you tired of that question yet?”

“I’d like an answer to it,” he replies. “Get alongside this bus, okay?”

You nod and drive steadily alongside an LAX passenger bus. Tim’s team lays a wooden board between the bus doors and helps people cross to safety. You listen to Tim encourage the passengers across and are glad he was the cop who got on the bus today. The rear tire blows out suddenly, and you pull the steering wheel back to the middle and yell for Tim to come help.

Tim falls on his way back to the front of the bus, but when he reaches you, he moves his arms across you to pull the wheel.

“Use this to hold down the gas pedal,” he says.

You take the device from his hand and lower it into place. Tim steps back to tie the steering wheel to the floor of the bus, and you steer to keep the bus straight while he works. The moment it’s secure, he pulls you to your feet and tells you to get on the metal access panel.

“I can’t do this,” you argue.

Tim raises his hands to either side of your neck and brushes his thumbs along your skin as he promises, “Yes, you can. I’m right here with you.”

You swallow nervously and nod before sitting on your escape route, a thin piece of metal that Tim moved with no problem. Tim moves to lay over you, and he wraps an arm around your waist as you hide your face against his shoulder.

“I got you,” he promises once more.

The bus turns and the access panel cover falls out of the bottom. You clutch Tim tightly as the metal door slides across the runway and into a nearby patch of dirt. He sits up and watches the bus slow as it nears a plane but doesn’t let go of you. Just before the bomb detonates, Tim pulls you down again and lays over you to protect you from any debris. Sirens echo in the distance, and you wrap your arms around Tim’s back.

“Are you alright?” he asks again.

“No,” you answer, your first honest answer of the day. “Oh, I hate the airport.”

Tim moves to your side but keeps an arm around your shoulder as he looks into your eyes.

“You can’t get mushy on me. You can’t show emotion, remember?” you tease.

“I think I might be able to after all.”

“Relationships that start like this never last. It’s just the high-stress, adrenaline pumping, all that.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe we can change that.”

“Uh, I think your friends are here.”

Tim looks up but doesn’t move as Angela and Wade exit a police car and run toward him.

“I was worried about you,” Angela says. “And here you are.”

“I’m sorry about Harry,” Tim offers. “I wish we could have changed it.”

“You good?” Wade asks. “’Cause I might be a nice guy and let you take the rest of the day off.”

“And stop worrying about what we could have done differently. You saved a lot of lives today, Timothy,” Angela adds.

“A day off sounds like a good deal,” you murmur.

Tim shakes his head before introducing you to Detective Angela Lopez and Sergeant Wade Grey. When he finally stands and sees the scrapes and gashes littering your skin, he forces you to let a paramedic treat you. Tim follows you to the ambulance but hangs back to talk to Angela. He’s lost a partner before, too, and knows what it’s like.

“I’m sorry for bringing everyone into this. Howard could have just come for me,” Tim concludes.

“I appreciate everything,” Angela responds. “But, you’re going to the hospital, too. Is that Chen?”

Tim turns quickly and sees Lucy running toward the police cruiser parked behind the ambulance.

“Sergeant Grey!” she yells. “We’ve got Payne on the line, and he wants to know when he’s getting his money. Whoa, Tim, are you alright?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tim says. “He doesn’t know the bus exploded.”

“Tell him thirty minutes,” Wade alerts all the nearby officers.

“Stay in the ambulance,” Tim tells you.

“But I-“

“Ma’am, stay in the ambulance.”

You nod and climb into the ambulance after refusing help from the paramedics. They continue bandaging a cut on your leg as Tim climbs in.

“I need to make a quick stop on the way to the hospital,” he tells the driver.

“Where?” she asks.

“The drop spot. Pershing Square.”

The driver reluctantly agrees, and you watch Tim as she drives. He demands you stay in the ambulance until he returns, and you agree but don’t mean it. You’ve been beside Tim for most of the morning, and you neither remember how to be away from him nor do you want to. You stand on the sidewalk beside the ambulance and watch people move around you. It’s another normal day for them, but your life will never be the same after today.

“Miss, you can’t stand here, you need to move back,” an older officer says as he grabs your shoulders.

“Oh, I’m waiting for Tim-“

“Tim Bradford, yes. He asked that I move you out of harm’s way.”

“But he told me to stay here.”

His hold on your shoulders tightens as he says, “And I’m telling you to move.”

“Payne is late,” Angela complains.

“He’s not late,” Tim says. “He’s never late.”

“Two hundred cops are watching that sculpture, plus a tracker in the bag. He hasn’t been here,” Wade explains.

“Turn on the tracker,” Tim requests.

“What for?”

“Just do it!”

Wade presses a button on the laptop before him, and the blinking light of the tracker travels across the screen.

“He’s got the money,” Angela says.

Tim runs out of their hiding spot and to the drop spot. He pushes the art installation over and kicks it when he sees the opening in the sidewalk beneath it. As he drops into the defunct subway system, he sees someone walking farther into the tunnel and pulls his gun.

“L.A.P.D. Freeze!” he yells.

The person stops, and he aims at their head before saying, “Pop quiz. Someone has a clear shot at your head. What do you do?... Turn around.”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll kill Tim Bradford,” Howard Payne threatens as he secures a vest covered in dynamite around your chest. “What are you going to do?”

“Wait- wait for him to come in and walk away. Then I listen to you,” you answer shakily.

“Perfect. Maybe you two can have your happily ever after all. You say one word that I don’t like and you’re both dead.”

Howard disappears down the subway, and you bite your bottom lip to refrain from crying or screaming for help. Tim may shoot you, no questions asked, but at least he will be safe. When you hear something crash above you and sunlight infiltrates the dark staircase before you, you take a deep breath and begin walking away.

Tim’s voice doesn’t carry the same comforting words or soothing lilt as in the bus, but you still recognize it and want to hear it as he yells at you.

“Turn around!” he demands.

You turn slowly and can see the moment Tim realizes he’s pointing his gun at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

The apology echoes off the concrete walls as Tim lowers his weapon. You don’t see or hear him, but you can feel the change when Howard appears behind you.

“Be prepared!” Howard says as he walks up the stairs behind you and raises the detonator, a deadman’s switch. “What are you gonna do, Tim? I don’t think you can shoot this hostage.”

“Let her go,” Tim demands as he points his gun at Howard.

“I don’t think I’m going to do that. Move the money,” he tells you.

You transfer the money from the L.A.P.D. bags and into Howard’s duffel bag as Tim yells at him to let you go.

“You don’t need her!” Tim adds.

“I will let go,” Howard threatens as he moves the detonator switch. “You don’t get it, Tim. Do you know what a bomb that doesn’t explode is? It’s the cheap, gold watch they gave me after I lost a finger and a life to my country.”

“You’re crazy.”

You push yourself against the wall as you listen to their exchange, but you keep your eyes on Tim rather than the bomb just below your chin. Howard demands you take his money and enter another part of the tunnel system and you know that you’re going to obey because he’ll kill Tim if you don’t. You tear your eyes from Tim and walk exactly where Howard leads you.

As you enter a crowded stop, Howard fires several shots into the concrete ceiling as you drop your head and cover your ears. The subway passengers waiting for the next train flee in terror as you try to get away from Howard. Tim can’t be far behind, but when you’re pushed into a subway car, you’re tempted to think that no help is coming. Howard handcuffs your hands around a pole before the subway lurches into motion.

At the back of the subway, Tim struggles to pry a set of doors open before he falls into the car. He moves strategically through the empty rows of seats with his mind on you and ending this game with Howard Payne once and for all.

The subway conductor reaches for his radio, and Howard forces the deadman switch into your hands and tells you to hold it. He turns his back on you and kills the conductor as you struggle to move away.

“Look, you won. You beat Tim, you beat everybody, you can just throw me off the train. I don’t care,” you plead.

“You see this stick? When you explode, the police will come there. But that’s not where I’ll be, so I get more time. I promise it won’t hurt,” Howard replies as he pulls the detonator away from you.

A series of dull thuds echoes, and Howard looks up quickly. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip.

“Hey, Tim. Is that you?” he asks. “He’s so persistent. Wouldn’t be able to interest you in a bribe, would I, hotshot?”

Howard kneels and opens the duffel bag full of cash. You watch as a dye pack explodes in his face and paints his money purple. In his anger, he fires bullets into the roof, and you drop to the floor as Tim rolls out of the line of fire. Howard runs through a door, and you can only listen as he climbs onto the roof and begins struggling against Tim.

Howard has the deadman stick in his hand and can kill you by moving a centimeter to the left or right, but you’re more worried about Tim with every noise against the roof. You stay low on the pole you’re cuffed to, twisting your wrists and manipulating your fingers as you try to slip free. The struggle above you silences suddenly, and you watch the door nervously.

“Tim!” you call when he rushes in. “Tim. Where’s Payne?”

“Uh, he lost his head. Turn around,” Tim says.

You circle the pole, and Tim rips a wire free before loosening the straps of the vest.

“Let’s take this off,” he says before pulling the vest away from your chest.

“Tim, can you hear me?” someone asks through the driver’s radio. “This is Wade. Listen, the track isn’t finished.”

“What else can go wrong?” you murmur.

“Wade, I copy,” Tim radios.

“Do you copy? Try the emergency brake.”

“I copy!” Tim tries again before throwing the radio down.

He steps to the right and hits the emergency brake. After the train doesn’t even slow, he begins hitting other buttons, but nothing happens.

“None of this works!” he exclaims as he hits the control board.

He turns away from the useless machinery and returns to you. When he notices the handcuffs holding you in place, he slows.

“You can uncuff me and we can get off,” you say with an exaggerated nod.

“I don’t have a key,” Tim replies.

“You don’t have…”

You trail off and look at the handcuffs. If only you could slip your hands through them, you think. Tim begins pulling and kicking the pole as you try again to pull your hands through the metal cuffs. He pauses and lays a hand against your arm to look at how tight the cuffs are.

“Help me pull,” you grunt as you lean your weight back against the restraints.

“No, no,” Tim says quickly as he pulls you forward. “You’re just hurting yourself.”

You stand still and see a bead of blood running down your fingers. As you stare at it, Tim walks to a map on the wall. He remembers the nightmare again; a series of bad memories that end with him, “the Reaper,” standing alone in the desert before being rescued and awarded a medal. As he searches for a way to save you, Tim decides that he will never shoot the hostage again, and he won’t leave you behind, even if that means dying with you.

“Tim, please just go,” you beg.

“There’s a curve ahead. I can make it jump the track.”

“Tim! Sergeant Bradford!” Tim turns to you, and you repeat, “Get off this train. You can still jump. Tim, please. Please.”

Tim ignores you as he returns to the controls and increases the train’s speed. You slide your hands down the pole as you sit on the floor, and Tim walks silently to your side. He leans in beside you, and you raise your arms to wrap around his neck as you lean your head against his. He moves his arms around the pole to circle you and holds you tight as the train picks up speed.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper just before the lights go out.

The train car hits something and spins, but Tim tightens his arms around you. With every bump and move of the subway, you become more convinced that you’ll never get out of this position. Light enters the windows as you crash through something, and the car flips onto its side as it lands on asphalt. The impact loosens the pole, and you fall onto Tim, whose grip on you doesn’t waver for a second. As the car slides to a stop, you squeeze Tim and take a deep breath.

“You didn’t leave me,” you say before forcing yourself to open your eyes.

Tim cradles the back of your head before moving his hands to your back. You lean up gently and look into his eyes again.

“I told you to leave me!”

“I didn’t have anywhere to be just then. Rest of the day off and all,” Tim responds before pulling you down against him.

He kisses you, and you’re surprised that it is more than adrenaline. The kiss is more than a relief to be alive, and you want to feel Tim Bradford at your side every day for the rest of your life (which would have ended today if not for him). You move your hands to Tim’s short hair as you return his kiss. It’s relief, joy, love, and passion in a single touch. When Tim begins breathing heavily against you, you move up.

“I’ve heard relationships that start during intense situations like this never work,” Tim says.

“Oh,” you sigh. “Then I guess we’ll be the first.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am.”

Glass rains down on you as you kiss Tim again, and though your day went nothing like you thought it would, it’s now the best day of your life. Tim helps you stand as his team approaches the scene, and you stop him before you exit the car.

“You know if this was a movie, they’d make another one where the same thing happens again, right?” you say softly.

“We’re never taking public transportation again,” Tim states.

“Yeah. Hey, where is the truck you were driving this morning?”

Tim hesitates and tightens his arm around your waist before turning away to yell, “Chen! I need you to do something for me.”

#tim bradford x reader #hanna writes✯#tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fic #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader #speed 1994

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slayfics · 3 months

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Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter twelve: You make a plan to rescue Katsuki.

Chapter links

You lay in bed feeling numb. Nothing was more excruciating than just waiting around for news of the pros locating Katsuki. The villains had successfully kidnapped him and injured plenty of others.

You rustled around in bed unsuccessfully trying to get comfortable when your phone lit up with a message from Eijiro.

Meet me at the hospital. I have something I want to talk to the class about.

You left right away glad for a distraction to pull you out of your relentless rumination. You couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if you tried harder to convince Eijiro that day to escape the classroom with you and help Katsuki.

Eijiro had let you know to meet the rest of the class in Izuku's room in the hospital. When you arrived almost the whole class was there.

Eijiro had begun to tell the class about the conversation he and Shoto heard Momo have with All Might. She had placed a tracker on one of the villains. Eijiro's idea was for Momo to make another tracking device so the class could follow it to find the villains and Katsuki.

The class erupted with conflicting opinions. Tenya instantly shot down Eijiro's idea, scolding him for even thinking about it.

"This is a matter for the pros! This is not a situation for students like us to be meddling!" Tenya yelled to Eijiro.

"Damn it man I know that already! But still hearing that our friend was being targeted and I couldn't do anything! I didn't do anything!" Eijiro yelled the frustration clear on his face.

You hadn't realized he was regretting not going after Katsuki just as much as you were.

Arguing ensued until the class was kicked out into the hallway so the doctor could tend to Izuku. You stood in the hall as your classmates continued to argue about the plan. You couldn't help but feel this plan was what you had been waiting for. It felt like a sliver of hope in the uselessness you had been feeling since the trip.

You felt your anger begin to rise any time a classmate gave another excuse about why you shouldn't go. You couldn't help but wonder if someone else had been kidnapped would the conversation have been different? Would everyone agree and rush to the rescue if it had been another classmate?

Everyone but Eijiro had made it clear they held disdain for Katsuki's temperament. It felt like it was you and Eijiro arguing your side against the whole class.

"I don't know- think about it guys, is that really what Bakugo would want?" Ochaco asked.

You finally felt yourself snap, "How the fuck would you know what Bakugo wants? Why don't you all grow some balls and just say you don't care about him! If this was Deku instead would you really be saying that right now Uraraka?" You said stepping closer to Ochaco.

Your classmate's eyes widened with shock and confusion at your sudden intensity.

"This isn't a time to turn on each other," Todoroki said as Eijiro made a move to pull you back from Ochaco. "Those of us that want to go, meet outside the hospital later tonight, ok?" He spoke ending the argument between the class.

Your classmates began to disperse from one another making their way back home. You felt the tension in your body ease up at hearing Shoto was in agreement with searching for Katsuki.

The three of you stood outside the hospital.

"Let's get whatever we need for tonight and meet back up here in a few hours. Sound good?" Eijiro said.

"See you both back here later then," Shoto said and departed.

"Kirishima, did Yaoyorozu really say she was up for your plan?"

"Well not exactly, she said she would think about it... but if there's a chance we have to take it right !? I know you understand."

"Of course, without a second thought. I can't rest at all thinking about what Bakugo might be going through right now," You replied.

"Yeah... I uh- I'm really sorry I talked you out of your plan trying to get us both past Vlad... maybe if we had-" Eijiro began to say.

"Don't. Don't think about it anymore, Kirishima. We're doing what we can now, that's what matters," You replied.

"Yeah! right!" He said, shaking his head a bit trying to stay focused.

"I'll see you back here soon ok? I don't care what those others have to say. If it ends up being just you and me then fine we'll do what we have to."

Eijiro nodded in agreement, "I uh- can't help but wonder about what you said back there. If it was someone else that had been captured instead of Bakugo... Would they still react the same? I suppose it doesn't matter, what I do know is you and I see him as a friend, so I agree! Even if it's just you and me we will go! See you then!" Eijiro waved and made his way off.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle

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alotofpockets · 11 months

Text

Breaking down the walls | Yelena Belova

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader Prompt: “Please never stop smiling.” Marvel masterlist | Words: 1670 When you heard that you had to go on a mission with Yelena Belova, you weren’t exactly thrilled. Sure, you had never actually met her personally, only ever having been in the same room as her during meetings like this. Though, it felt like you knew her through her reputation. Your mind filled with the many things you had heard your coworkers speak about Yelena.

“It’s like she has no emotions.” “I don’t think she even smiled once, and the mission lasted a week.” “She’s cold.” You remembered that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and that you should find out for yourself what Yelena was like. In a months’ time you would have to be able to find out some things you decided on as you packed your bags.

That same evening you headed to the main hall where everyone gathered to get their mission details. You saw Yelena already standing there and walked up to her, with your hand held out in front of the woman, “Hi, I’m y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Yelena’s eyes moved to the hand you still held up in front of her. “Yelena.” She said before she looked back down at the phone in her hand. You awkwardly withdrew your hand and sat down on one of the nearby seats, to await further details. This was going to be an interesting month, you thought.

When it was your turn to receive the folder with information and the location where you were expected to go to for the needed equipment, you reached for the folder as Yelena took the car keys. Before you had even opened the folder, Yelena was already on her way out of the door. You hastily followed scared she might actually leave you behind, you’d read the folder in the car. As you expected the ride over to the warehouse to gather supplies was silent, you read each page in the folder thoroughly before setting it aside. The rest of the way you diverted your gaze outside, watching the countryside pass by.

At the warehouse you received the gadgets like earpieces, burner phones, a laptop, and tracking devices, and body camera’s. Your favorite part about the warehouse was the wide variety of weapons. They already placed the weapons you both requested on the work bench. You let Yelena grab her weapons first, while you made small talk with the warehouse manager. Once you’ve both loaded your stuff into the car, your journey continues.

The first couple of days went by slowly but surely, you were getting familiar with your surroundings and getting ready to track your target. When you got back to the house from a grocery run, you hear Yelena say, “Okay, copy that.” Before hanging up the phone. She turns to you, “They have intel that our target will be attending an event tonight in the main square.” You take off your coat, “Okay, let me put the groceries away quickly and then we can make a plan.” Yelena nodded and got the laptop ready.

“Okay, so I got us into the event.” She hands you your entrance badge, it reads the name Abby Miller, you look over to her badge and see she will go by Bella Walker tonight. “Nice work.” You compliment the woman. Next you open the blueprint of the building and look at the map to look at the surroundings. Time passes quickly while you’re planning and soon you have to get ready.

You arrive at the event and get your car parked by the valet, taking a mental note of the direction they drive the car towards. As you expected, they are using the parking lot across the street. You walk through the doors and after showing your badges you’re allowed entrance. Yelena grabs two drinks off of a tray and hands you one as you walk up to a table in the corner of the hall, a table that gives you a nice view of the whole room.

Your eyes scan the room while you’re telling Yelena about random things, so you blend in well with the rest of the crowd. “10 o’clock.” You say when your eyes land back on Yelena. After exchanging a quick nod, you each down your drinks and move into the room. As you had discussed you walked slowly on the far right side of the room, stopping at the bar. You order a drink that takes a little while to make, you turn around looking over had the room as if you were people watching. In reality you were stalling for Yelena to control the hidden body camera you were wearing from the equipment that made it look like a regular smartphone. When she gave you the signal that she got the image you turned back around, and a moment later your drink got served as well. You take the drink and slowly move further along the right side of the room.

Now it was Yelena’s turn, she crossed the room straight to the middle. You watched her move around the room, acting like she was drunk, unable to walk properly. She was heading in the direction of the target, who was now only a couple feet away from her. The target was deep in conversation and had no idea of what was about to happen. Yelena stumbled against him. “Oh I- wooww I m sosorry.” She slurred. “It’s fine.” He said and held her up. “Security!” He shouted. A security guard was quick to his aid. “I think this woman needs some fresh air.” Yelena let the security guard lead her out the back where you met her soon after. Holding up the sheet with the targets fingerprints, “That was like so easy.” Her face plastered with a proud smile. That was the first time you saw her smile, your chest warmed. You knew that not everything they said about her was true.

There was just one more step to finish for the night. You walk over to the valet girl, “Excuse me, miss. I was hoping to get my car back early, my friend had a little bit too much to drink, I think it’s best to take her home.” She gives you a friendly smile, “Of course, just one moment, I’ll get your key from inside.” While you distracted her Yelena quickly put a tracker on your targets car. The valet comes back out of the building and gets your car ready for you. You thank her and drive around the building where you planned to meet back up with Yelena.

Back at the house you both change into something more comfortable. “Hey, so I got us some mac and cheese for dinner tonight because I wasn’t sure if we would have much time to cook, are you okay with that or would you like me to get something else?” You swear you saw the corners of her mouth twitch up for a millisecond. “My mom used to make the best mac and cheese.” She shared. “It’s my favorite food still.” In stead showing that you were surprised at her sharing small things from her passed, you told her a childhood memory of yourself, hoping it would make her feel safer with sharing stuff.

Your thoughts seemed to be correct as over the next week the two of you started to get to know each other more and more. You noticed the part she would shy away from, always making sure not to push her into sharing anything. Slowly you started to realize why she had built her walls so high, people had let her down starting from early childhood.

By the day the two of you got closer. It was like you were breaking away at the walls she put up for the world brick by brick. Besides that, your mission was progressing very well, you turned out to be a really good team. Probably one of the best partners you’ve ever been on a mission with and to think that you were not wanting to partner up with her because of the way other people had spoken about her behind her back.

It was the last day of your mission. You had already successfully accomplished the task at hand and were packing your stuff. Your mind fuzzed over with thoughts about not being with Yelena every day anymore when you get back. Being around her had become a part of your daily routine, a part you were quite happy about. “Is everything okay?” Yelena asked stepping closer to you. “Yeah, I’m alright. I was just thinking that I was going to miss having you around when we get back.” You honestly share.

A big smile grew on Yelena’s face. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily now, did you?” Before you know it the next words are out of your mouth, “Please never stop smiling.” Your eyes widen. That was a thought that was meant to stay in your head. A blush raises to your cheeks. “Aww, don’t get shy now.” Yelena teases. She takes a step closer, you’re standing face to face with her now. Your eyes meet hers. Yelena lifts her hand up to caress your cheek softly. “This month with you has been amazing, I’ve never felt this close to anyone in my life before. And I don’t want to ruin this, but I would really like to kiss you. Can I?”

Your smile matches hers from a moment ago. “Yes, yes you can.” She pulls you in by the hand on your cheek and meets your lips in the middle. The moment that her soft lips touch yours, you melt into her. The kiss starts out sweetly, but quickly gets more passionate as you have both been craving this for weeks. The packing was quickly forgotten as you got lost in each other. It’s safe to say that when you get back, Yelena will still be by your side.

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x gn!reader #yelena black widow #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

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eugenephosgene · 10 months

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Okay okay here's the rant

Do not post your identifing information online- profile pictures, names, email ids, phone numbers, aadhar cards okay okay that's it but you get it right? Do not post them unless you're really really sure you want that information out there. I have some mutuals who have their faces as their pfps so it's not like you don't have to do it. You should just know the consequences of posting that information online. Especially if you're minor and in some cases even a girl.

Do not tell them your age, i don't need to know you're 15 year old. Maybe i can guess from your rants about school or college or work but that's a secondary thought. You should not post your age so carelessly on your front page, it just makes you a better target. Again, especially if you're a minor.

And this is going to be general because we don't have live location feature on tumblr thank god. Never share your pictures from a place you're at while you're still at that place. Mostly applies to vacations and outings. Post those pictures after you've left that place and similarly NEVER tag in your location while you're there.

Do not overshare facts and identifyable details about you to strangers. No need to give them your insta id or anything like that. Ik you may want to share it after you've known them for quiet a long while and you're very sure of their identity buy please take it slow and don't trust people easily because there is no undo button here.

Never paste your trigger warnings. Those things are between you, god and your non existent therapist.

There are so many other things that I'll add later on but in short, the most simple rule is this.

Before posting anything identifiable online, imagine there is a person sitting on the other end that wants to harm you. Now decide on if what you're posting is going to make it easier for him to track you/harm you or not.

#Online safety

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leonaquitaine · 1 year

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How-to: Orbit Camera

Today we'll escape the boundaries of the game and use a mix of recording and editing tools to create a neat orbiting camera video!

For this recipe, you'll need:

1 x PC (these instructions were tested on Windows 10)

1 x FFXIV Client

1 x screen recording tool (Geforce Experience, Radeon Adrenaline, etc.)

1 x Avidemux (https://avidemux.sourceforge.net/)

GShade to taste

1 - Setup

Let's open the Character Configuration under Settings. in the General tab, locate the Camera Speed (Keyboard) slider, and set it to zero. This will give us that smooth, slow camera movement.

At this point, you need the screen recording tool ready. I have GeForce Experience, so I'm using the Instant Replay function to save the last 5 minutes of gameplay; YMMV.

2 - Capture

Let's enter GPose. Position the camera so your character takes most of the screen while leaving some padding around, turn off the UI (Scroll Lock or LB+Back), and move your cursor to a corner.

Start recording, and use the Left/Right arrow keys to orbit the camera around your character. If your character is frozen (Target Motion toggled off) a couple of full circles are enough. At this point, you can stop the recording.

3 - Editing

Launch Avidemux and open the raw video. Now we're going to adjust some values.

First, let's disable the audio. On the top menu, select Audio > Select Track, then uncheck all the Enabled checkboxes. This will mute the video.

Filters are how we'll modify the original video. By default, the Video Output is set to Copy; in order to enable filters, we need to select a custom encoder. Let's pick one that's pretty common and compatible across most services; in my case, I selected NVidia H264.

Now the Filters button should be enabled. Click it; the Video Filter Manager interface should open.

These are the filters I'm using for this video:

Crop (to eliminate the unwanted background, bring attention to the character and set the target 1:1 aspect ratio)

Contrast (to prep it for devices with better luminance range, like phones)

swsResize (to create a smaller video file)

4 - Trimming

Now, the tricky part: In order to create a seamless, cycling orbit movement, the first frame of your video must match nicely with the last.

The way I do this is by browsing the video (Click the slider at the bottom, then use the Left/Right arrow keys) for a frame with a clear feature (say, a light source coming behind the character), clicking Set End Marker (Control + PGDOWN), then Delete Selection (DEL). This will eliminate all frames up to that point.

Now, I locate the exact same frame later in the animation once the character is spun around once, click Set Starter Marker (Control + PGUP), then Delete Selection (DEL). If done correctly, now you have a full cycle!

Finally, the output format: Select MP4 Muxer, again a compatible format that'll work nicely with services like Twitter and Tumblr.

And… that's it, really! Now click Save Video and give the new file a name.

And so, a new orbit camera video is born. Enjoy!

#ffxiv #avidemux #orbit camera #how-to #gpose guide #gpose #gpose tutorial

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simpfor141cod · 10 months

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Copycat; Ghost pt.1

As an assassin, how would you go about trying to kill one of the most deadly men? You needed to draw him away from the rest of task force 141, you needed to get his attention- but how? Well, apparently the best way to get the attention of Ghost, is by pretending to be Ghost- what could go wrong?

contains: Angst, Assassin!Reader, suggestive themes, eventual smut, degradation, violence, knives, Ghosts ego, slow burn romance, ghost is weirdly turned on by you trying to kill him??

"Ghost? You want me to kill Ghost? You mean the guy that took out your entire squad by himself, that Ghost?" You couldn't believe your ears, running your hand through your hair, you were about to decline before the man on the other side of the phone speaks; "you are one of the best assassins on the market, are you not?" The mans voice growled, obviously not happy with your response. "Yes but its Ghost! of all people why hi-" you were cut off suddenly, "If you do this, you can be done with all the killing. We will let you go." What? There's no way they mean that, they've kept you here for ten years already, why the hell would they let you go now? It was going to be nearly impossible. Only one way to find out I guess. You probably wouldn't get another offer to leave. All or nothing. "I'll do it." --

You spend the next week gathering as much intel on the man as possible, which was a terrifyingly small amount. 'Ghost' '6'4" ' 'Known for his skull mask' 'extremely dangerous' You also had a few notes on taskforce 141's previous sightings/locations & allies. Great. Like you didn't know most of that already. You look at the tiny list that you had managed to get written down and sighed. You adjust the height of your training targets to his height, your jaw drops as you crane your head up. 'well shit.' You take a deep breath and massage your temples, why the hell did you accept? To go home. Your eyes harden as you remember your family, you had to do this. If not for yourself, for them. You had fought men his height before, some even taller. However, this was Ghost for fucks sake, the mention of the mans name is enough to stop an entire army dead in their tracks. You take a deep breath. "okay, so, I've got the limited intel available, now I just need to figure out how to get him to come to me, because there is no way I'm taking on all of taskforce 141.." you lingered on your own question for a while, debating the outcomes of different plans. ---- "THATS IT" you sit up in your bed, you were just about to fall asleep when an idea popped into your head, The only way to get his attention, and have him come to you: You would pretend to be him. Nobody liked being copied right?

Every other plan you had thought of before came to the same grizzly conclusion; Your imminent death. You just hoped that Ghost would be curious enough about a copycat that he wouldn't just kill you immediately. That brings you to where you are now, watching a movie-esque battle scene unfold Infront of you between a terrorist group and a gang. You had found out that taskforce 141 had been seen in the area recently, searching for the terrorist group currently fighting Infront of you, they had recently threatened to attack and overthrow the government- so they were on 141's radar. You watched as the two groups reached a sort of stalemate, gunfire ceased, so you made your way down to the ground from the rooftop, silently blending into the background.

For now. Unlike Ghost and even your usual self in this scenario, your goal was to be seen- at least by the other gang. You knew the opposing gang was a supplier of intel to 141, so they would immediately recognize Ghost. This also meant that if you didn't move now- the real Ghost would be there sooner or later. You made your way around to the back of the terrorist group, sneaking up behind one of the men, immediately taking out your knife and pulling him to the ground, quickly dispatching of him before he made any noise. This was easy work for you, after being an assassin for this long, there weren't many scenarios that made you nervous, but the thought of Ghost showing up to the 'party' with the rest of taskforce 141, had you wanting to kill these men and get the fuck out quickly. This was simply phase one of your plan, you needed Ghost to be interested enough that he'd seek you out alone, its the only way you could possibly beat him. You groaned softly, noticing how the weight of all of the gear Ghost would wear weighs you down, you had his look down pat, it was just the height that was the issue. If you wanted the gang to think you were Ghost, you were going to have to keep your distance from them, otherwise they'd know something was up. You made your way around the group, pulling them into the shadows one by one, it wasn't until the last one that you purposefully let yourself be seen, the man turned around and you could have sworn he nearly passed out when he saw the skull mask- he froze, letting you take advantage of his lack of movement. He briefly began to yell, quickly silenced as his body hit the ground with a thud, you wiped your knife off on his shirt before standing, "He really does strike fear into the hearts of men" You said almost baffled, but not entirely surprised. It wasn't long before you heard footsteps in the distance, a red dot appearing on your chest for a moment before a spotlight is on you from a distance. "Holy shit its Ghost?" "Who contacted 141?" "I was going to now but I guess someone already did" "I only sent for them about a minute ago.. how the hell did they get here so fast?" The men from the gang all seemed confused, it was going exactly as you planned. As they all talked amongst themselves, you took it upon yourself to slip back into the shadows, leaving the scene littered with your kills. 'Phase one complete" You reported back to your boss, finally removing the skull mask before abruptly ending the call, you had to get the hell out of the area, and fast. ---- "Copy. Thanks boys." Price looked over at Ghost suddenly, a confused look on his face. "Ghost" "Yes sir?" "Apparently we are no longer needed for that callout on the terrorist group, according to our intel, you already handled it" Ghost wasn't a man of many big reactions, so by the way his eyes widened Price started getting the gist of what was going on. "Well they seem pretty convinced it was you, it would appear you have a copycat. Skull mask and all." There wasn't much that surprised Simon anymore, especially not in his field of work, but this was new. The team agreed to go and look at the scene, all scouting the area for this 'copycat' incase they were still in the area. "Jeez, they certainly did a number on em' didnt they?" Soap announced, pushing one of the bodies over with his foot. A small grunt of agreement was heard from Ghost as he observed the patterns in the 'handywork' of whoever did this. "Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing." Price stated, pointing out how all the bodies bar one were hidden from sight in the shadows. "9 people, all with the same knife" Ghost stated, his brain working in overdrive trying to figure out who might be doing this. "So it was definitely just one person? Shit" Soap looked shocked, "This is easy work for us" Ghost sighed, not wanting to admit being impressed himself. "A copycat huh?" He mumbled to himself. ----- Hope you enjoyed, next part coming soon :) -yours

#call of duty #fanfiction #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #cod fanfic #cod smut #simon ghost x reader

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angelicyouth · 11 months

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Youth ; Chapter 15

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

The shrill sound of the telephone wakes up the sleep deprived group of teens slouching in on each other for more comfort. The rickety chairs that have been more or less their tentative homes in the recent days squeak and groan at every movement of their too-large bodies as they shift to forced consciousness.

Their bleary eyes scream at them when they fight off the last dregs of sleep desperately begging to bring them back into its embrace, the glowing numbers of the clock hanging on the wall announcing to them that the time is now currently 2:48AM. Tired hands come up to their faces, languid in its motion as it takes a couple of times to direct the appendage to wipe at their sleep encrusted eyes when it repeatedly misses its intended target.

Hearing the muffled words coming in through the transparent window separating the boys from the detectives at their desks, Stan immediately shoots up in his seat when he hears my name being tossed around. He shushes the tired groaning of the others, bringing a hand up as a nonverbal command to keep their bodies still.

Results.

Phone tracking.

Location.

Now.

This is the last thing the elder Marsh hears before he clumsily heaves his body up, hands blindly reaching for his jacket to throw onto his rushing form as he runs out of the double doors leading to the outside world of the police department.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

A sea of luxurious silk linen lightly caresses every curve of my body, the softness of the mattress surrounding my form as I lay in the depths of its smooth embrace. I’m seated upright in the temporary fortress that I’ve woken up in since the day of my abduction—a four poster queen sized bed with a canopy of gentle white, the soft material cascading down into billowing curtains over the metal rods that support the structure.

Shackled around my ankles are a cool metal, heavy in its weight and linked to the bedposts at the base of the two rods in front of me. Higher above the swollen, red skin that’s been uncomfortably chaffed into tenderness from my confines is nothing but a babydoll dress made up of black lace adorning my frame.

To erase anything from your old life, they had said.

Sick pervert, I had thought back in discontent.

My wrists are currently screaming in searing pain, the bones that make up my non-dominant hand dislocated and mangled beyond belief as I forcibly slip it free from the rough texture of the ropes that bind them together. I will myself with all of my might to not pass out from my self-inflicted agony as my head becomes increasingly light, the mounting dizziness forcing black spots to teeter into the edge of peripherals.

Body trembling from the excruciating torment, I can feel my perspiration begin to lightly bead against my hairline as I force my shaking hands to bring the thick cord back around my wrist to keep up the illusion of detainment. My throat tightens around itself as I force the bile that threatens to come out back down from the burning feeling. I try to focus on the distinctive, copper taste that my teeth invokes from my lip in an effort to discourage any sounds from escaping my mouth.

I curse inside my head when the door to the room opens up, my perpetrator perching themself down onto the length of the bed in front of me. Their added weight makes my body lean closer to theirs, the slight shift of my faux bonded hands behind my back making me want to scream into oblivion. In stark contrast to the binds that keep me in place, their touch is gentle as they carefully bring the metal edge of a spoon towards my lips, silently urging me to take in a mouthful of food.

My head stays slightly lowered in submission, my eyes never making eye contact when a few seconds pass by with no movement on either end. I don’t even flinch when my captor predictably loses their temper at my disobedience, the piping hot bowl of soup getting thrown at the nearest wall when I refuse to eat.

As always, my assailant will become violently upset when I don’t part my mouth for any sort of nutrition they try to provide me with and I wonder when it will inevitably turn into their seething appendages against my flesh. My eyes don’t waver from its unrelenting focus onto a particular spot on the blanket covering the bed as they loudly curse to themself at my predictive unwillingness to cooperate, their thundering footsteps echoing out into the hallways before they come back to clean up the mess they have made.

Investing their time into bringing the room back to its orderly state allows them enough moments to calm down before they resume their undivided attention to my still form, their body settling back down onto their previous position from before their little tantrum. A warm yet damp washcloth glides over my smooth skin, running along the droplets of stew that became a casualty in its demise as my perpetrator’s hands softly tend to me.

“... I’m sorry you had to see me like that. You know that I just care about you, right? I wouldn’t ever hurt you. It only worries me when you don’t eat.” Their voice is hushed in the otherwise quiet room and my mouth remains shut.

I have not deemed my captor worthy of my voice for anything unnecessary since the kidnapping and they routinely sigh at my expected muteness, their larger hand coming up to lightly cradle my cheek when my skin is deemed soup-free. I’ve been extremely selective with what I say, the rare times my lips part to let out my thoughts are when I ask them to let me talk to or see my friends and family—nothing more.

My throat is sore from disuse and my refusal to drink even a bit of water. I don’t even allow myself the short respite of sleep because if I do, the waking world will greet me with severe disorientation and a panic attack when my eyes settle onto my unknown location. I didn’t need my captor rushing into the room from my distressed cries and screaming to comfort me, not wanting a repeat of the first time it happened. The less contact with each other, the better.

My assailant’s thumb is almost nonexistent, my brain not registering the carefully gentle movements as they attempt to soothe the soft skin of my cheek as I begin to disassociate. “You haven’t eaten anything since you’ve came and you don’t talk to me. I’m just trying to help you, you know? You’re safer here and I can give you anything you want, Y/N… I can make you happy.”

Better than most situations, yes.

But it was still disgusting, to be frank.

Almost vile.

Sickening.

Granted, my perpetrator didn’t mistreat me in any way or intentionally inflict any abuse either physically or psychologically onto my person. But, their sick delusions in keeping me locked up for their own selfishness made me sick to my stomach—the obsession this person harbored that grew until they couldn’t hold themselves back any longer when they saw me alone at the parking lot.

The one, rare moment that I wasn’t seen with any of the boys and they jumped at the opportunity. Just thinking about it brings up the nauseating question: how long have they been closely watching me to seize such an infrequent occasion?

There’s a stretch of silence between the two of us before they sigh in defeat from my unwavering stubbornness and I try my absolute hardest to refrain from sneering in disgust when they plant a gentle kiss onto my forehead. My jaw tightly clenches and my eyebrows crease together as I feel my anger manifest into the physical remnants of tears beginning to thinly coat my eyes in frustration.

I count it as a small victory when nothing escapes from my eyes—they didn’t deserve my tears.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It’s a whole operation, one with full combat gear and everything. Exhilaration fills everybody’s system as they follow the glaring colors of red and blue sitting on top of the multitude of police cruisers rushing down the desolate streets of South Park.

It’s quiet in the car, the teens forgoing the sound of music in exchange of the wailing sirens from the Tactical Response automobiles that they closely keep their eyes on. The prospect of finally getting their missing member back fills every pore in their body with a nervous thrum of anticipation, hands trembling on their seated laps in bottled up energy as they come across a swarm of officers exchanging words and talking into radios behind the police tape.

When the boys unload the two vehicles that they all crammed into, they’re predictably denied entry from getting closer to the site as they were deemed unauthorized personnel. They instead take the time to take in their surroundings and from mere observation, it seems that the signal they traced from the phone call brought them to an industrial block close to seemingly nowhere.

Most of the buildings seemed to be factories and warehouses, almost eerily abandoned from the husks of cement that encloses them. The windows adorning the stretch of structures are eerily dark, resembling the empty eye sockets of a person in its lifelessness.

Kyle subtly motions his head in the direction of the surveillance van that is heavily armored and the group catches his nonverbal cue as they pretend to leisurely check out the area in order to bring their bodies closer. From their position, they can see an abundance of green-tinged surveillance screens and a multitude of unfamiliar electronics that flash LED lights.

Interlaced with the humming and whirring of the electrical devices, they can hear a detective murmuring directions into their mouthpiece as they keep their eyes glued to a live feed of one of the helmets of the men inside. The night vision of the cameras give the screens beyond the mess of wires and cables a green hue, looking similar to the ones you’d see in ghost documentaries or horror movies.

Suddenly, words become more rushed and frantic as fingers rapidly begin to dance along the keyboards stationed inside the array of devices, the boys instantly surging into impulsive action when they hear the words: getting away.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My lack of clothing causes goosebumps to arise all over my body as it hits the cold Colorado air, my perpetrator hastily shoving me into an unmarked van in an attempt to put distance between us and the frenzy of law enforcement that steadily gets louder as they approach our location. Curses cut through the air of anxiety ridden breathing when we suddenly hear loud footsteps, a foreign body suddenly tackling my assailant from behind.

Taking this opportunity of transferred attention, I finally cease my charade of faux restraint as I push the tangle of bodies away from me to run in the opposite direction and take cover to the closest area. The sound of scuffling continues with the added noise of yells so I keep my body hidden in a mixture of nervous anxiety, not wanting this sliver of hope to diminish if I were to be seen.

My body curves in on itself as I crouch as low to the ground as I can while my hands cover my ears, shaking fingers curling over my unwashed hair as I pray that no one finds me. I force myself to pay attention to the pieces of gravel painfully digging into my bare feet while I try to regulate my breathing, my body hunching in on itself even further to insulate more heat.

It isn’t until the sounds of grunts and fists making contact with flesh come to a stop that I chance a peek over the broken rubble of what was possibly a wall long ago. My eyes widen in surprise when I see that my boys have come to my rescue, covered in an array of both cuts and bruises with their chests rapidly heaving up and down from exertion.

The moment of elation immediately turns into dread when I see that my captor has unfortunately obtained a new hostage in my absence, the air thick with newfound tension. Butters winces at the tightening arms locked around him, his hands shooting upwards to soothe the exerted force of the headlock he’s in.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Adrenaline starts to pump through my veins as I try to desperately rack my brain for any ideas on what to do when something catches my eyes. The reflection of moonlight creates a glare over its shiny cover, the item that piqued my interest under stray pieces of rubble. I silently make my way to the object and feel the corner of my lips quirk up when I’ve identified the heavy steel as a compact handgun—a fully functioning glock that must’ve been knocked away during the altercation minutes ago.

I would say that I’m pretty adept with using the weapon—my Uncle Jimbo having taught my brother and I at a young age whenever he took us out to spontaneous camping trips as a sport, but most importantly to teach us a decidedly lethal form of self defense. He began to take us to shooting ranges instead, however, when our combined stubbornness caused us to refuse the purposeful harm of inflicting wounds on innocent animals.

I step out of the concrete camouflaging my body to reveal myself, my face devoid of any expression and my voice flat yet loud. “Let him go.”

“Y/N!” All of the boys exclaim in relief when they spot me but I don’t acknowledge any of them, refusing to look away from my target for even just a second to allow them an opportunity of escape.

My perpetrator’s eyes widen behind the material concealing their identity when they land on my form, a black ski mask with just a large oval cut out of it for their vision. They laugh, irritatingly confident with fake assurance of our time together.

“Come on, babe. You wouldn’t shoot me. Now be a good girl and come back here so I can let your little friend go.”

I let a few beats of silence go by and when time proves that they won’t relent, I tiredly close my eyes.

Breathe in, and out.

Concentrate.

My chest rises up as I inhale a deep yet steady breath to bring clarity into my mind, my neck leisurely rolling my head around before I grant myself my vision back and focus. Steadily bringing my arms up into the stance deeply ingrained into my body from my adolescence, my fingers take off the safety to pull the trigger and shoot.

The sudden onslaught of meticulously thought out bullets causes my assailant to drop Butters in their surprise, but none of the shots I take pierce at their skin. I only have the metal pieces graze at the fluttering material of their clothes in warning and the outline of their body in an effort to intimidate them. I walk forward with confidence, expertly dropping the first magazine and quickly reloading it as I let muscle memory take over.

In my ruthless shooting, I don’t take notice of Kyle whacking both Craig and Kenny behind their heads in admonishment when their lips slightly part at the sight of me in awe. Deep vermillion shades their cheeks despite the situation, their hands distractedly coming up to pat Butters in reassurance when the blonde hastily makes his way back to the group.

My eyebrows don’t even furrow in my unwavering concentration, my face apathetically blank as I finally stand in front of my disguised perpetrator. The conservative amount of openings on their mask doesn’t provide much but the sight of their eyes is all I need to know that their body is racked with fear.

Without breaking eye contact, I reach into the front pocket of their flannel shirt to lightly graze my fingers against the box of cigarettes that I know is almost permanently etched in there. Bringing a stick up to my lips, I light it up with the lighter kept in the box for convenience and languidly inhale the toxic fumes until it fills up my lungs.

Tendrils of smoke begins to slowly leak from my mouth before I mockingly blow a stream of it onto my assailant's face, my eyes lazily trailing down when I see the growing pool of wetness that forms between the material of their shaking legs. The pungent smell of urine invades my nostrils from our close proximity and I cruelly smirk around the rolled-up nicotine, my hand bringing the pistol in between their eyes.

I slowly lift up my unoccupied hand, ignoring its screams for medical attention as I lightly graze the cheek of the person in front of me. Gently grasping the course material covering their face in between my fingers, I take my time in lifting it further up and away from their head.

The boys behind me suck in a sharp breath when it’s finally revealed that it was none other than the teen that approached me at North Park Funland’s food court when I was waiting for the guys to grab lunch.

“What the fuck?” Someone exclaims from behind me in a mixture of confusion and exasperation, desperately grasping onto the faint remnants of memories that contain the face in front of us.

Pressing the cool metal further against his skin in threat aides him to nervously speak up, his mind running at a million miles per hour as he answers the unprompted questions in all of our heads.

“Don’t you recognize me, Y/N?” Despite the anxiety overcoming his body, there’s a manic grin that begins to stretch wide on his face yet I continue to keep my face devoid of any emotion.

He laughs and the sound of it makes everyone in its vicinity uncomfortable, the madness and hysteria in his tone sharply bleeding through his vocal chords. “See, this is why I took you. I bet you only remember me from the time I came up to you at the amusement park, huh? I went to North Park High with you, and I loved you. You never dated anyone so I thought you returned my affection too, just waiting for me to finally gather up the courage to speak to you.”

“… Holy shit.” A voice exclaims from behind me at the deranged confession.

“But before I could, you suddenly disappeared at the beginning of sophomore year. I was devastated, Y/N. How could you do that to someone who loves you? How could you do that to us? How could you just leave me so easily? When I finally saw you back at the amusement park at North Park, I thought you finally came back. I knew I had to talk to you when I took all of the times that I could have for granted but when I finally did, these bastards interrupted. They took you from me, Y/N.”

A shaky hand reaches forward in an attempt to caress my cheek but I just press the cool metal harder onto the skin of his face in wordless threat. “You understand, right, Y/N? That I had to do it, for us. They changed you—you weren’t like this last year so I knew it was all of their faults.”

My eyes apathetically blink slowly at the pleadings leaking out of the mouth in front of me, the glowing embers of my cigarette casting a warm light against the visage of the begging teen in front of me. The mixture of shades are reminiscent of the color I’d associate with the blazing pits of Hell, a place that’d be worthy of housing the pathetic figure in front of me.

“Just come with me, Y/N. I didn’t hurt you, right? I showed you that I could take care of you and I wasn’t lying when I said that I could make you happy. Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.” He offers me a placating smile, wobbly around the corners yet gentle all the same. But despite the soft way his lips curve around his cheeks and how his voice noticeably lightens when addressing me, the deranged undertone of his intentions cannot be ignored.

A beat of silence stretches on as everyone tentatively soaks up the onslaught of information, a whistle cutting through the area. “… What the actual fuck.”

“This guy is actually batshit insane.”

“More like pathetically delusional.”

“You sick fuck! I swear I’ll bash your fucking head in!”

“N/N! Back up before he tries to do something!”

In answer to everything and everyone, my wrist fluidly turns the object in my hand around to harshly slam the butt of the gun onto his face. When his hands shoot up to nurse the blood streaming down from his now crooked nose, I pounce on his larger form and begin my assault on his face with my relentless fists.

There’s a small quirk to my lips when I hear the satisfying sound of his bone crunching underneath my knuckles, the voice below me just begging for reprieve. The point of contact between the both of us that I know will inflict a world of hurt causes an overwhelming sense of euphoria, the body trembling underneath me in both unadulterated fear and absolute pain.

For the first time in days, I feel good.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My revenge didn’t get as far as I would have liked it before a cacophony of panicked voices fill the air at my merciless revenge, arms settling themselves over my waist as they heft my body away from my assailant. When the distance between us steadily grows, I take petty satisfaction in spitting at the vivid reds and deep purples beginning to bloom in a sea of blood.

When my cigarette is but a slowly diminishing roach, my hands flail to extinguish the flame onto the skin of his face. I struggle for a bit as a scream of anguish rips out of the gurgle of blood in his throat but my quick attempt as a last resort of revenge proves to be fatal when my perpetrator quickly grabs onto my mangled wrist.

I yell in excruciating pain as they purposefully exert force in the hold that they have over me, knowledgeable of the tender skin laying underneath their grip and using it to their advantage. Their unoccupied hand hurriedly reaches into the denim of the back pocket of their jeans, the arms wrapped around me frantically trying to pull me further away as I desperately try to wrench back my screaming wrist.

Their efforts prove to be successful as if in slow motion, a syringe filled with a sickly green gets brandished before they try to stab the thin metal into the expanse of skin onto the arms wrapped around me. I can physically feel the color drain from my face when I can feel a slight pinch in my skin come from the needle being ruthlessly jammed into my arm in its haste, my veins beginning to feel like they’re burning as he mistakenly injects me with a foreign liquid.

My body immediately falls limp like a puppet whose strings got cut off at the unknown intrusion, the other boys quickly tackling my assailant to properly hold him down. He begins to maniacally laugh as he eerily smiles at me, my eyes glassy and distant as I stare back. It’s like I have no control of my body, my mind desperately willing my fingers and toes to move, to do anything but all my attempts are otherwise unacknowledged by my body.

I can’t do anything as I fall onto the rough asphalt of the floor, pieces of gravel painfully digging into my exposed body as Tweek falls from my unexpected dead weight. The blond cushions the rest of my body as he cradles me in his lap, my head facing up into the dark sky from my new position.

There are no stars up above to provide me Craig’s gift of everlasting comfort, I realize.

Tweek’s shaking hands push my limp head to the crook of his elbow, my form draped across the safe solace of his lap as he adjusts my body for comfort. Slender fingers tremble as they try to clumsily push away the stray strands of hair that fell over my face, my sticky cheeks making it harder as silky locks are wet from the tears that were invoked when my assailant forcibly applied pressure to my self-mutilated wrist.

My body feels as if it’s alight in pure hell as every single cell in my body begins screaming at me, willing it to do anything to rid my system of this tortuous sensation. Tears begin to gather at the corner of my eyes, my vision glassy and unfocused at the pure agony that my nerves rapidly signal to my brain for some desperate help.

“Guys! GUYS!” In my silent suffering, I fail to notice the apprehension of my prior classmate as the boys begin to quickly gather around me at the sounds of Tweek’s frantic yelling.

His erratic fingers continue to desperately push away the locks of hair obscuring my vision, his chest quickly heaving up and down in panic as he takes in my state. “Ngh! She hasn’t moved since the guy injected her with something—she hasn’t even BLINKED!”

“What?!” Kenny roars in anger, not comprehending how the situation got even worse than it already was at the slight error on their part for not quickly capturing my perpetrator as soon as I started attacking.

“What the fuck did you do?! Fucking ANSWER ME!” My brother thunders out loud this time, but nobody can provide an explanation as they watch my terrifyingly still body.

Kenny shoves his way to where Tweek has me, the blonde getting roughly pushed aside as I’m forcibly transferred onto another lap, the new face revealing itself to be my blonde lover. His brows are furrowed in frustration and his normally crystal-like eyes have a thin film of cloudy tears around it, threatening to break free when he heaves a shaky breath out at seeing my unresponsive face.

“No. No, no, no. Princess?” His whisper is so feeble and weak, his normally confident and easygoing voice utterly distressed as he frantically scans my face for any detection of life.

“Come on, baby. Don’t do this to me, please. No more, I just got you back.” Shaky hands gently grasp at one of my shoulders, softly urging me to do something as his pleading voice transitions into feeble begging.

He lightly presses his forehead against my own, his fingers softly grasping onto my hair and twirling it around his fingers as an outlet to release his nervous energy. My body screams out at him but no one can hear me, my form as limp as ever and still burning. However, Kenny’s arms wrapped around me so securely after so long apart causes a bit of relief from my own internal torment.

He can’t help the sob that shakes his entire body at its sheer magnitude when I don’t respond to his familiar touch or the soothing cadence of his voice like I usually do after minutes of trying. The blonde’s breathing becomes increasingly panicked, every inhale and exhale of his chest shaking my own form as he cradles me against his clothed one.

“Always and forever, remember? You can’t leave me now. We’re supposed to get old and grey and when our lives are almost done, you’re supposed to grin and turn to me and Tucker and tell us all about how much fucking fun you had.” His voice comes out in broken whispers, almost becoming delirious from his haywire emotions in its rawness and how utterly torn it sounded.

As ironic as it is, up until this moment the blonde truly thought he knew death. Dying as often as he did, Kenny figured that it could never get worse after all of his gruesome experiences with it. But it never quite prepared him to consider the other perspective of it, to watch someone else pass and the foreign emotions that came with this new territory. He’s lost his limbs, even his own heart, but he has never felt such a loss like this in his entire life.

In the privacy of the darkness that overtakes his room with nightfall, he would consume a conspicuous amount of alcohol and drugs in order to numb the pain of constantly dying. But after the discovery that I’d remember if he left, he realized that he didn’t need all of that anymore when he knew that someone was expecting him back. That sole moment of discovery was an absolute dream come true because Kenny absolutely hated dying, the way the hurt never got better and how it made him feel so forgettable and insignificant.

It was the reason he opted to take home economics in elementary school instead of the shop class filled with sharp material and dangerous equipment with the rest of the boys. It was the reason he chose to be a fucking princess in their fantasy role-playing game, wanting to be the one who got saved for once in his life from his intimate relationship with death and his time as Mysterion, the superhero who rescued others.

Because he never understood—who saved him while he always saved everyone else?

But at this very moment, he thinks about how he’d gladly take my place if it meant seeing my smile again. Despite how much he grew up absolutely dreading the familiar emptiness that came whenever he woke up to the water-stained ceiling of his bedroom. Regardless of the way the people he held so dearly to him acted so normal when he came back, as if something wasn’t amiss despite their swollen red eyes or the lingering smell of alcohol on Stan’s breath.

Because to Kenny, the blonde saw the heavens every single time my lips curved in happiness. And he didn’t want to lose the one good in his unfortunate life full of poverty provided by his deadbeat parents.

Not now, not ever. Not when there was still a promise of always and forever.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Red locks suddenly appear in my peripherals, a large hand going over my chest as Kyle leans his head closer to my still body. After a few seconds, he places his fingers on the pulse of my neck and wrist before ultimately placing a finger in front of my nose.

“… There’s no sign of breathing.” It feels like a cold bucket of water drenches my body at the curly haired teen's whispered words, my mind screaming that no, I’m still alive.

“How the—but she was just… Is she dead..?! Please don't tell me she's dead.” Clyde’s panic-stricken voice wobbly sounds out from somewhere to my left, the boys yelling out shocked expletives at Kyle’s solemn announcement.

“There’s just no way. Try again, Kyle. Please.”

“No. No, no, no. Not her. Please, not N/N.”

“Are you sure you checked correctly? Maybe it’s faint, check the pulse on her neck or wrist again!”

“How..? She was just breathing.”

All variations of false hope, all coming to the same conclusions no matter who checks and how. Stan doesn’t relent in his desperate attempts, determined to hear the sound that belongs to the other half of him.

It just didn't make any sense, it couldn’t even register in his mind despite everyone’s efforts and their repeated confirmation. I’ve always been there with him. Who was Stan Marsh if not the twin of Y/N?

My heartbeat is all that he's ever known, the one thing he’s so sure of in a universe filled to the brim with the undiscovered. It’s something that he's so in tune with—he knew the exact beats of it and could recognize the warmth of it whenever he was near me. But right now as I lay still with my eyes wide and glassy, it was like listening to deafening static and hoping for nothing.

I would’ve jolted if I had control of my limbs as an agonized scream sharply cuts through the air, my brother’s voice full of anguish at the reveal. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

“You better speak the fuck up or I swear to fucking God that you’ll wish the police got to you before we did.” Craig’s monotonous voice rings out from somewhere to my side, my screaming brain wailing out to my raven-haired lover because I feel scared even in the comforting presence of the others.

I hear something loudly make contact with the ground, my perpetrator grunting a little further away. “FUCKING DO SOMETHING! YOU WANTED US, RIGHT? NOT HER! YOU WANTED TO MAKE HER HAPPY YET YOU STILL DID THIS TO HER! TAKE ME INSTEAD!”

In the quietness of the night, so soft that it’s almost hard to hear he speaks again. “Please. Please, just take me instead.”

The raw pain colored in Craig’s voice hurts my apparently unbeating heart even more, his voice breaking apart as it dissolves into a small plea at the end of his sentence in unadulterated desperation. A drop of liquid falls onto my face as he threatens the teen and my eyes shift up to see Kenny softly weeping over me, the sight making my heart feel like it's breaking into a million pieces as I desperately wish to just reach out and soothe the weeping boy.

Nobody says anything, the sound of sobbing and sniffling the only thing filling the air.

When the blonde pulls me closer to his chest in order to bring my limp body into a tight hug, the slight alteration to my position allows me to see Craig as he takes a few quick strides to where he threw my assailant. The groaning teen begins to cry out in pain when the ravenette intentionally grabs him by the shoulder where a deep crimson begins to bleed through his jacket.

“FUCK YOU, you sick fuck. I can’t believe you’d kill someone you claim to love. If you make it out of this alive, just remember: when you killed her, you didn’t kill just one person.” He raises his fist and roughly slams it against the already battered visage of the bleary eyed teen in front of him, quickly lifting his curled fist to deliver repeated punches again and again.

He laughs but it’s devoid of any emotion. Yet it’s somehow ruthlessly cruel in its emptiness and hollow in its hurt.

“Never get too attached to anyone, dipshit. Unless they also feel the same way towards you. Because one-sided expectations can mentally destroy you. Well... I guess it’s too late for that, you crazy fuck.” Craig cuts off the boy begging for mercy or for any sort of undeserved reprieve as he kicks him down onto the ground, pressing a knee onto his chest as he scoffs at the delivery of his too-late advice.

He exerts as much of his weight onto the wheezing body in front of him, the struggling teen spitting out the onslaught of blood that pours into his cut lips from his broken nose. His hands clumsily shoots out to try to relent some of the pressure from the ravenette’s knee as a large hand reaches for his hair to harshly slam his head onto the ground.

My unnamed assailant frantically begins to yelp, his voice raspy as he tries to force out the words from his throat. “Stop, STOP! She’s alive, okay?! Just let me go and I’ll do something.”

Kyle backs away from me and I feel the tears begin to leak out from the corner of my eyes quicker than when I was in pain and I know that my body would have been absolutely sobbing in distress if I could move. The diminishing presence of the boys around me causes my brain to go into a frenzy of panic, desperate to be heard from the others and to keep their comforting presences with me.

Already overwhelmed with the ongoing pain coursing throughout my body, the additional panic of the boys losing hope wills myself to open my mouth to yell out for them. When nothing works, I curse at the fact that my eyes were left open because now I just wanted to block everything out—for everything to be over with. Whatever was injected into my body was killing me and I could feel it.

It’s as if whatever higher deity is up there finally answers my prayers as tufts of silky blonde hair enters my vision from the corner of my eyes, Butters expression filled with melancholy as he scans my face. He brings a hand up to the skin of my cheeks, his touch so soft that it almost feels nonexistent. He lightly skims his fingers over the expanse he has access to and when they creep towards my damp eyelashes, his hand stills from their gentle ministrations.

His eyebrows furrow, his voice soft in its disbelief as he speaks up. “She’s crying.”

“What?” Tolkien approaches my view, his own expression tensely mirroring the blondes in his well-deserved skepticism. He carefully watches as Butters brings up the soft material that makes up the sleeves of his jacket to gently dab at my eyes, the area not staying dry for long before my tears immediately resurface.

“Holy shit, she’s crying.” He echoes out in confirmation, a mixture of bewilderment and confusion painting his words.

A beat of silence tells me that they’re all looking at the previously masked teen for answers, the boy speaking up at their expectant faces when the sound of a fist meeting skin sounds out through the air. “Fuck! I told you, it’d be a slow and painful death. She’s not dead, yet. She’s still alive, I can do something if you just let me.”

“No fucking way! We can't trust him!” Cartman barks out to the group in caution, a sneer deeply curled onto his face as he stares down at the beaten teen.

Butters immediately starts sobbing at my lifeless face, the salty tears that are escaping his eyes begin to gently drop down his face until they meet the already damp skin of my own. He’s frantic in trying to catch every drop that trails down from my own orbs, his aim not that accurate due to his shaky hands.

“Fellas! FELLAS!” The blonde musters up what little of his strength he has left as he yells over the boys arguing, effectively cutting off the voices fighting over our heads.

“We have to help her. We have to. She’s my little sister, I can’t lose her.” He hysterically babbles, his frantic speech making it hard to make out his words.

“Butters, calm the fuck down.” A hand tries to placate him by laying itself on one of his shoulders, the blonde venomous as he urges everyone to just listen as he sharply slaps away the comforting touch.

Although hope was beginning to form due to Butters’ efforts, the pain coursing my veins was starting to change, feeling like something within me was ominously shifting. While everything still hurt, my senses were beginning to gradually fade as my body began to give up its fight. Everything around me felt like it was getting duller, my brain slowly starting to not register the feeling of Butters’ fingers against my face and the surrounding voices of the others.

“We can’t trust him! He can’t do anything, he’s just fucking lying again! He’s deceived us once and he's just going to do it another time. She’s GONE! He can't bring her back!” Cartman impatiently tries to yell some sense into the boys, everyone lost on what to do and sharing conflicted looks with one another.

“Let him go. Do it.” Stan decidedly breaks the silence, tensely forcing his demand out through gritted teeth as he vehemently glares at my assailant.

I felt so… gone.

But my brother knew he had to take the chance, however small and uncertain it may be. He had promised and he was going to do whatever he was capable of doing at this moment to keep it. Every time he was there, he always told me that I’d be safe and he’d be damned if he turned his back on his baby sister. Because if there was even a chance, a small sliver of hope that I was still alive…

“He might be lying, Stan…” Kyle shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his face as he whispered logically to the furiously demanding teen.

“DO IT! I’M NOT FUCKING AROUND, FUCKING FIX HER!” His scream pierces through the air, a few of the boy’s bodies jumping slightly at the sheer volume of his distressed voice. He ignores his best friend’s reasoning, not even sparing a moment to acknowledge that his emotions may be irrationally controlling the decisions he’s making.

No one moves for a moment, everyone warily eyeing each other. Cartman furrows his eyebrows and takes a step forward before Kyle stops him. “If you do this and something happens, it’s on you. Would you be able to live with your conscience if nothing happens to N/N and he’s able to get away?”

“It’s a chance that I’m willing to take, Kyle. Don’t fucking question me, this is my fucking sister.” Stan impatiently snaps at the curly haired teen, the redhead glaring back at the bleached blonde from the insinuation of his words.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Marsh. She’s my little sister, too.” He bitterly bites back as he roughly pushes past the sneering teen and grabs the discarded gun from the floor before kneeling down, freeing my perpetrator from the thick rope the boys used to crudely detain him with.

Kyle threateningly points the heavy metal towards his head, the other boys closely watching to see if he’ll flee as their bodies tense on the chance that they may have to jump into action. My captor grabs something from the unmarked vehicle, his hands nervously shaking as he brings another syringe out to imbed into my skin. The boys all collectively flinch when they watch the long needle trespass against my arm, their breaths baited as they tensely observe from the crowd formed around me.

The second the liquid enters my system, it’s as if my body got released from the paralysis keeping me shackled in its silent hold. Only one deep breath gets heaved out before I let out a bloodcurdling scream to vocalize the intense agony I’ve been feeling all this time.

Shocked, the boys didn’t know what to do as they watched in muted horror as I begin to scream bloody murder on Kenny’s lap. They just kind of expected me to wake up, never having guessed that they’d be presented with the painful image of my back contorting to an exaggerated arch and my limbs violently flailing everywhere.

My sobs begin to combine with my torturous screaming, my hands failing multiple times before they’re able to grab onto the material adorning Kenny’s frame as I shake his still body. “MAKE IT STOP!”

The screeching finally prompts him into action as his hands attempt to restrain my thrashing body, my chest painfully heaving as I blabber nonsense to anyone listening through my thick tears. All the boys could do was cry at the sight, feeling useless and frustrated as a few of them join us on the ground to assist the blonde in keeping me still.

From upside down my vision, Craig gently but firmly grabs onto my cheeks to still my flailing head as he presses his soft lips onto my skin to speak against my forehead. “Shh, I’m here, babe. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

All the boys let out their own shaky variations of both verbal or physical assurance and comfort yet nothing changes. Clyde hysterically sobs, turning his face from where it was nestled into my neck to beg at the teen who administered my pain. “STOP THIS!

He glares at my former classmate without breaking contact with me, the teen looking sheepish as he averts his gaze from the deathly looks of the group of teens. His voice is low and meek as he mumbles to the others, “... Her body’s been getting tortured like this since the moment the liquid entered her system. It’s just that now, she's finally able to physically and verbally react to it.”

Everyone feels their entire guts plummet at the information revealed to them, my body beginning to weakly curl in on itself as my screams fade away to loud sobs. They’re speechless at the fact that I’ve felt like this the entire time, all of them ignorant to my silent pain and for thinking I was already dead.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Kenny vehemently seethes from where his own body is wrapped around my own in an attempt to comfort my relentless weeping, his form shaking in unbridled rage.

My whole body twitches and throbs before the pain manifests itself into bile forcibly exiting my mouth, my delirium unable to put a name to the voices and hands trying to soothe me. Whatever happened with the second dose made my eyes heavy with fatigue, my head going eerily limp from the sudden decrease in energy.

“Stay with me, okay, beautiful? It’s over now, you just need to stay awake with me. We’re going to keep you safe.”

But I was too tired, too filled with pain, and too weak to keep the promise of the comforting voice. I could feel gentle fingers stroking my cheeks, soft kisses placed against the skin of my face, and both of my hands in someone else's grip.

“Come on, baby. You can do this. Stay with me.”

The sounds around me gently morph into an orchestra of panic but all I can do is lightly smile at the cacophony of hysterical noise as the warmth from everyone comfortingly surrounds my whole body to rest.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My parents had offered to drop my brother and I off to school, the both of them pulling Stan aside to exchange a few hushed words as I patiently wait along the pavement of the frosted sidewalk. I vibrate in place as I wait for Stan, excited to finally be away from the sterile, white confines of the hospital walls.

Once their conversation concludes, he walks the short distance between us as he intertwines our fingers together, his moving feet leading me along the almost desolate hallways of the school. His body is slightly ahead of my smaller one, as if shielding me from anything that we could possibly come across and I just softly smile at his ridiculous yet endearing overprotectiveness.

I unconsciously shrink in only myself before he notices and shoots me a comforting look, his supportive smile making me stand a little bit taller in confidence before he pushes the heavy wooden door to our first class of the day–homeroom. My eyes flicker from side to side, slightly widening as I take in my surroundings to look at the faces around me in a mixture of both anxiety and excitement.

Not paying much attention, I fail to notice that my brother has stopped walking as my body softly runs into the thick material of the jacket that adorns the back of his body. I lightly giggle at my clumsiness, my inattentiveness making the both of us grin as he begins to slightly pull our interlocked hands to bring my form a little forward.

The expression on his face is soft as he lightly smiles down at me as a form of reassurance, his eyes taking the time to run along my face to take note of any signs of discomfort. Once satisfied after nothing sets off his instincts, I offer a soft grin of my own when my brother brings my attention to the group of teenage boys gathered in front of us.

They’re all in varying stances, some perched onto the seats of their desks while a few lean against the table top of the hard structure to be in closer proximity with their friends before the school day starts. My face slightly angles downward towards the linoleum floor when I notice that all of their expectant gazes are carefully watching me, nervous energy reverberating from their bodies in barely contained energy.

Of what, I’m not quite sure as my eyes look back to search for ones identical to my own in encouragement as the nervous thrum begins to run along my veins at their attentive stares. My brother’s voice is patient when he speaks up, soft in between the contrasting air of chattering students surrounding all of our bodies.

“N/N. Do you remember any of them..?”

My body seeks refuge from the intense gazes of everyone as I slightly retreat to hide half of my face behind Stan’s clothed arm, my hands clenching around the ones in my hold in anxiety. I shake my head, the nonverbal answer knocking the bated breaths out of the group of teen’s bodies in a mixture of evident disappointment and apparent anguish.

There’s an apologetic expression on my face as I whisper honestly to my brother.

“No.”

#south park #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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